


Unconquered

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Arius Spyridon [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry Potter, Dystopian Future, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/M, Gods and Godlike Beings, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Independent Harry Potter, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Powerful Harry, Sane Tom Riddle, The Veil, Time Travel, divine intervention, genderbening (not Harry)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: Everyone knows the story of how Harry Potter fought the darkest wizard of the age and won. He went on to marry his Hogwarts sweetheart. Have a couple of kids. Become head auror...Only... None of that had actually happened. Harry Potter was claimed to have died in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries a martyr.... Only that, too, didn't actually happen.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Winky, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Tom Riddle & Severus Snape
Series: Arius Spyridon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740568
Comments: 46
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Regular speech."  
>  _"Parseltongue."_

He had been wondering for a while why her kisses tasted like ashes.

Why her skin was cold as a dementor's touch.

He couldn't remember when those hazel eyes had looked on him and he saw love there.

She was the love of his life. His fierce goddess. The fire haired Valkyrie who deigned to give him the time of day.

And yet every time they came together there was no passion. No fire. The spark was gone. Not even kids could save their marriage.

She tasted like ash and dirt. She felt like Death clad in ill fitting skin and piloting someone else's bones.

And here they were again. He'd downed a lust potion. It was her first night back from training with the Harpies. It was expected of him that he be ready for her when she got out of the bath.

**o0o**

He had blinked. And then.... his bedroom was gone. His wife vanished. And he was staring up at a stone ceiling.

He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. But he could hear.

"It's him! It's really him! We found him!"

Harry saw an unfamiliar face hovering over him. Bubblegum hair changed suddenly to a sullen, limp black. It was slightly greasy in the torchlight. The man reached in, but couldn't budge him. "He's dead weight. Too heavy to lift alone."

"Damn. And we can't use magic in here. Not yet."

"Help me pull him out of the coffin."

Harry's eyes moved from the strange man to another that had come up on his other side. Blue eyes... the bluest eyes he had ever seen were staring down at him from a frighteningly familiar face. A face that still haunted his nightmares alongside the pale, nose-less, and terrifying creature that face later became.

And the panic in his eyes was noticed. "Potter, there isn't time to explain. Do you recognize me? Blink quickly once for yes and slowly once for no." Harry blinked rapidly. The man nodded. "You get his legs. I'll get the arms." They had managed to lift him up, at least, out of the coffin before nearly dropping him on the ground. "You weren't kidding. He IS heavy! Merlin Potter, did the bastard fill your gut with stones before locking you away in here?" the very human looking Tom Riddle panted.

Harry's legs were grabbed again, as Tom Riddle adjusted his hold and hoisted Harry up so that his arms were holding Harry up by the armpits. "We've got to hurry. There's no telling what alarms we've just tripped."

Harry listened to the two men as they carried him into the darkness, the torches abandoned in favor of carrying him. By the time they came out of what Harry supposed was a cave, there was hardly any light at all. And then Harry was dropped to the ground. Rocks and roots digging into his back and arm. Unable still to speak. To move on his own, he was helpless as the two men stood either side of him and raised their wands to begin casting protection magic.

The setting sun was outshined by the violent light of spell-fire before one of the men yelped in pain, nearly collapsing. "He's on his way! You have to get him out of here NOW!"

"Not without you-"

"Take Potter and GO! Or my father died for nothing!"

Harry felt the shiver of a whispered finite, but was still unable to move or speak. His limbs, though, when Riddle had cast the weightless charm upon him were less stiff and easier to maneuver. The world turned.... misty... after he felt a hand clamp down on his forearm. Soon, the spells were flying through a black mist as Harry was taken away. He was able to hear the arrival of others with loud pops of apparition.

The last thing he heard was a familiar voice, but lacking any semblance of warmth and comfort he had usually associated with it. "I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Tonks," Harry heard Albus Dumbledore say.

And Harry heard a snarl. "It's SNAPE!" the other man exclaimed. "Sectum-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

**o0o**

Harry wasn't certain where he was. But he felt... safe. Warm in a way he hadn't felt in years. He could move his mouth, but no sound came out. His limbs were weak, and still difficult to move.

He heard a sound from the shadows nearby. The scraping of a chair on a floor. The harsh snap of a book closed suddenly with one hand. It was a sound he normally associated with Hermione. It was a very old face that came out of the shadows to greet him. "Harry Potter..." she said, her voice soft and her pale eyes still so very kind. "Welcome back." She smiled at him as she set the book she carried on the table beside the bed. "Dobby," she called, and the elf appeared. He was older, clearly, than the last Harry had seen him. Something he was grateful for since the last time he'd seen him Dobby was... Dobby was...

"Miss Luna calls for Dobby?"

"Master Harry's awake. Can you ask for my daughter to come and have a look at him for us please?"

Dobby looked to Harry, lying in the bed so helplessly and he grinned. He seemed to perk up and his big eyes fill with light and joy. And the beginnings of tears. "Yes Miss Luna. Right away Miss Luna." Dobby disappeared.

He returned soon with a chair for Luna to sit in beside the bed. She nodded towards the elf and sat down before reaching out for Harry's hand and holding it between both of her old, wrinkled, calloused ones. "Oh Harry," she said. "There's so much... So much you need to know..."

**o0o**

Harry quite liked Diana. She was much nicer than Madame Pomfrey had ever been. The fact she treated him like a sick patient rather than a troublemaker went a long way to him actually paying attention and listing to her instructions.

Through Luna he learned of the terrible fate that had befallen him after the Battle at the Ministry. She'd even told him, with Veritaserum to prove what she was saying to be truth, that it was the headmaster that had imprisoned him. "He feared you, Harry," she had said. "But not just that... he feared Tom would tell you the truth."

At his questioning stare, she elaborated. "Tom isn't the evil one here, Harry. We were all fooled. Tom was a victim of the headmaster's quest for power. I... it's not my place to give you all of the details. Only he can tell you those. But before he splintered his soul, he was just a boy. Ambitious. Cunning. Very persuasive and dying to prove himself. He was, after all, thought to be a muggleborn. Or at least a half-blood. But it wasn't until he managed to gain the friendship and loyalty of important pureblood children that he was seen as a problem to be dealt with..."

Luna told him everything she knew. About what Tom Riddle was like, according to many a portrait, before the incident with the Chamber of Secrets that got Hagrid expelled. And the changes that were seen in him after. She told him about the philosophy Tom had when he was younger, and how the pureblood sons in Slytherin found merit in his arguments, even if they were from a mudblood. They listened to him, and started to talk to their own parents about them. "The wizarding world was changing, Harry. For the better. It was slow, but they'd stopped casting their squibs into the muggle world. They had started drafting laws that would help orphaned magical children find suitable homes. They had even started research in the Department of Mysteries into ways to adopt muggleborns into magical families as if they were their own natural children. Things were getting better because of who listened to him. But after the death of Myrtle Warren, everything changed. He changed... And once the headmaster defeated Grindlewald, and was named Chief Warlock all those changes were swept away as if they never were. Anything that had been passed had been repealed. Anything being drafted was abandoned and ignored."

Harry listened as Luna had to help spoon feed him broth and soups. Each meal time she told him a little more about the world of the past and the hidden evils that were lurking beneath the surface until the first Blood War exploded. She skipped over much of it, and of their own childhoods.

It took weeks before Harry got the whole story. At some point, he was able to shakily hold a spoon on his own. Sure he spilled more broth than he was able to take in, but it was still progress according to Diana.

In that time, Harry had still not yet seen the man who had, surprisingly, rescued him.

**o0o**

Harry had still been unable to speak, but physically he was growing stronger. He was able to eat solid foods after a month and a half of a strict liquid diet. And he was finally... FINALLY allowed to leave his room.

He walked with Luna, letting her hold his arm and lean against him for support as they slowly made their way through the earthen tunnels. They were lit by a combination of muggle electricity and magic. Long strings of tiny lights strung along and stuck to the ceilings with mounts and sticking charms. It was a strange combination of things he saw as they walked, Luna stopping every now and again to point out invisible creatures only she could see.

Eventually they came out into a library. And it was, indeed, a decent one considering they were still below ground. There were a few comfortable chairs, and tables. Not enough shelves for everything, and stacks of them sitting in oddly angled corners as if more space had been dug out of the earth to accommodate them.

"Tom," Luna said loudly when they'd come in. "Tom!" she repeated, a bit more forcefully. At one of the tables a young man lifted his head, blue eyes scanning the room before landing on Luna and Harry. A look of relief flashed across his face, and for the first time Harry was confronted with a man he thought he'd killed.

"Luna," the man said, then averted his eyes. "Potter."

Harry could only nod at him in acknowledgment.

"Still not able to speak?"

"Diana says the curse damage is too severe. He'll never be able to speak again."

Tom Riddle hummed to himself as he closed his book and set it aside. "Please, join me. Both of you. Have you eaten?"

Luna nodded for them both. Harry helped her to the table so that she may sit, but Harry refused. Choosing instead to stand.

"I suppose you want answers and you're not going to trust anything that I say."

Harry nodded.

"Very well then..." he replied. "Dobby, I have need of you."

Dobby appeared quickly. "What does Mr. Tom need of Dobby?"

"I would like one bottle of Theodore's strongest Veritaserum and a vial of the antidote. And please keep an eye on Mr. Potter. He has a penchant for not eating when he needs to and I don't want him to go without if we can help it."

Dobby bowed low and returned, leaving two vials on the table in front of Luna and then a popping away again. Soon, a dented metal teapot and three tin cups were on the table. A small ceramic pot with a cracked lid and a couple of mismatched spoons as well.

"Thank you, Dobby," Luna said with a smile as she reached over and fixed herself a cup. "Would you like one as well, Tom?"

"Not at the moment. Would you verify for Mr. Potter that this is, in fact, Veritaserum?" Luna nodded, taking the vial and removing the stopper. Three drops were placed on her tongue and she shuddered. "Dobby, would you?"

Dobby asked three questions, and Luna tried to lie.

When she was finished, she was given the antidote.

Harry was given a yellow pad of muggle paper and a pencil. "Write down any questions you have, and I will go through them one by one and answer them."

**o0o**

Harry had broken Tom's nose after the first day.

He broke it again after the seventh day of questions.

He was just really angry and Tom was the only one, the only thing around, that he could take it out on.

The man didn't protest, much. He knew from Harry's perspective he deserved a lot worse.

It wasn't until the eleventh day that they learned Harry could still speak. Sort of.

Snakes didn't need vocal cords to hiss.

And apparently... neither did Harry.

It became common to hear the snake-speech in the bunkers, especially when Tom and Harry would be having an argument. Which was frequently.

**o0o**

Harry never ventured out of the bunkers. He wasn't happy about it, but after learning what he did about how he came to be in a fucking cave that prevented magic from being used to save him... well... he wasn't too keen on getting captured and sent back or worse.

So he busied himself with helping Luna and Diana treat wounded that returned from missions above ground. He helped with research as Tom had suggested.

Hell, the daughter of Draco Malfoy was teaching him how to properly use a sword when she wasn't out trying to protect the few pockets of resistance there were to the Supreme Mugwump and his oh so benevolent magical empire.

Then came the day when a wand was put into Harry's hand. "This was your father's," he was told. "Now forget everything you learned about magic at Hogwarts except the basics. Parselmagic is entirely different to standard magic, but it's a hell of a lot more potent," Tom had said in their first lesson.

By the time of Harry's next birthday, he had perfected every spell he knew previously in Parsel. He could focus his magic through anything that wasn't a wand if he focused hard enough. He knew his way around a sword and had no problem throwing off an imperius right behind a heavy crucio. Deflecting the killing curse became second nature as he was able to taste the change in the air, like a snake, of the magic building up for the spell. Sure, it wasn't much warning. But an extra second or two made all the difference in the world.

By the first Yule after his birthday, Tom deemed him ready to leave the bunkers.

**o0o**

_"What are we doing here?"_ Harry hissed as they crouched behind a boulder.

"Werewolves," he replied. "Fenrir's old pack was raided recently for cubs. We're here to break them out and return them home."

_"Fenrir? That vicious son of a-"_

"He was a good friend to me, Harry. And to Lupin too there at the end," Tom replied quietly. "Did you remember to drink the potion I gave you before we left?"

_"Yes. It was disgusting."_

"It'll mask your scent and protect you from infection if you're bitten."

Harry still didn't know how he felt as he followed Tom into the slave camp, a sword on his hip and his father's wand clutched tightly in his hand. Sure it was his first big mission for the resistance. But he was following Tom fucking Riddle of all people into battle. On a rescue mission of all things. To save werewolf children. Never in his wildest dreams could he even picture such a ludicrous situation.

**o0o**

The cubs were returned. Harry had one hell of a bite on his neck, but the potion he had been given had burned the infection out before it could take root.

Damn vampires.

Harry stood back with the others of the rescue squad as Tom spoke with the pack Alphas quietly. One of them was an old man with a face covered in scars that didn't look anything like claw marks. Tom called him over, and Harry sighed, wanting to shrink back into himself. But he complied. "Riddle-" Harry had started hissing, but was cut off suddenly.

"Harry?!" the old man exclaimed before deceptively strong arms pulled him close and hugged him tightly. He was sniffed a bit before the man nuzzled into his neck some. "Merlin it's really you..."

Harry pulled away, putting a few feet of distance between him and the old werewolf. _"What?..."_ he said in confusion, forgetting that only Tom could actually understand him.

"It's me, Harry. Neville. Neville Longbottom."

Harry's brow furrowed in further confusion. He looked to Riddle with a frown and mimed a hat, then gestured to the side of his own face. Tom raised a brow and nodded. "Yes..." Tom said slowly. "Yes. But we never told you the details exactly..."

"What? What's he saying?"

"Harry," Tom started, "Luna and I told you about the Battle of Hogwarts but we never told you THAT. How do you know that?"

Harry looked from Neville to Tom and back again. _"I saw it. At least, I think I did. Neville... killed Nagini the snake. With the Sword of Gryffindor. And... and... And you brought me back to the castle, claiming I was dead. But I wasn't. Neville stood up to you and you took the sorting hat and... But I don't understand. If I wasn't actually there and already trapped then how could I have..."_

"I don't know, Harry. But we'll figure it out. In the meantime, spend time with your friend. I'll see to the wounded."

**o0o**

Tom Riddle didn't know what it was Neville Longbottom had told Harry during the few days they were with the Pack. But whatever it was had set a fire alight in him that he hadn't seen since their duel in the Cemetery. When he was still out of his mind and newly reborn and Harry desperate just to survive.

They worked well together, and were able to fall into sync as they fought side by side so easily they appeared to have been doing so for years. Perhaps in a way they had... After all... There was a tiny piece of Tom trapped inside the Boy-Who-Lived. A piece that Tom desperately researched a way to remove without killing him like it had Nagini.

He'd... grown fond of him since getting to know him, or rather, since Harry allowed him to know things about him. In another life, perhaps, they could have been friends. If he weren't born so long before Harry. Or Harry born so long after Tom. They were alike in many ways, but different enough to cause that right amount of friction between them all good friendships shared.

Tom watched him as he interacted with the medics. He'd taken a great interest in healing magic since he'd grown strong enough to be able to cast a spell on his own again. The world was a horrible, harsh place run by a power mad wizard who thought himself above the common man. Above the laws he himself had written. A god among ants. Harry deserved a better world than that. He'd nearly had a better world than that had things gone the way they were meant to that night in 1981.

Instead, he contented himself with this. With trying to find a way to reclaim the horcrux inside the young man without sacrificing his life. He was going to have to explain to him about it eventually – he knew that the moment he indicated he knew how Longbottom's face got burnt. Sure the other details weren't right, but that one... it was too similar to the real events to be coincidence.

**o0o**

They were camping. CAMPING! In a wizard's tent, but still. Him, Tom Riddle, Lucina Malfoy and Alana Prewitt.

Harry was surprised to learn Alana's father was Fred Weasley... or rather, had been. He'd fled with Neville and Riddle's forces when the Battle of Hogwarts was a bust. Draco Malfoy had dragged him away after he'd just watched George take an AK to the back while trying to protect foolish children who were convinced to come out and fight. It was friendly fire that got him... and had sent Fred over the edge. He'd forsaken the Weasley name after that, taking up the name Prewitt ever after.

Fred had been killed 20 years prior in a suicide mission.

"You should have seen it..." Alana said almost fondly. "The moment the fiendfyre consumed him, fireworks. The loudest and most obnoxious distraction I've ever seen. It bought us enough time to escape with the slaves. It was... Da went out on his terms. He never gave up hope you were out there, somewhere. I just wish he'd lived long enough to see he was right."

_"Leave it to Fred to turn his death into a party,"_ Harry said, causing Tom to smile sadly before translating for him.

Alana smiled and tossed another twig on the fire. "You boys should get some rest. Lucy and I can handle the night watch."

**o0o**

They'd found it. The Crystal Cave of Merlin himself. If ever there were a place that could help him... a place that could give him the answers he sought, it would be the birthplace of magic itself...

Unfortunately... it looked like they weren't the first to find it after all.

The more they searched, the more the four realized every last scrap of magical crystal had been harvested and hauled away.

Tom screamed into the darkness in rage and frustration.

This was the last chance, The last possibility on an exhaustive list he'd compiled in his search to safely separate his shard of soul from the young man. And it was fruitless. Hopeless.

Tom fell to his knees and leaned forward, banging his fist against the cold stone ground until it was numb with pain.

He felt calloused fingers wrap around his wrist. _"Stop it,"_ was hissed at him. _"You're only hurting yourself."_

"It doesn't matter. I failed. We'll never be free."

_"What do you mean?"_

"I'm immortal Harry. I... I didn't want to be. I've been trying to fix it. Fix everything. But every time I think I've found the answer-"

_"It's the horcruxes isn't it?"_

Blue eyes widened as Harry looked down at him. _"As long as they exist you can't die. I thought you were afraid of death."_ Harry released his wrist and reached up to run his fingers through his own hair with a sigh. _"That's it.... The one that's in me. That's why he kept me alive all this time. Why he... kept me like a trophy. To force you to keep living and fighting in an endless war."_

Tom looked away. Harry sighed _. "Get up,"_ he hissed. _"Get up and lets go. The fact he already cleared this place out means it's not safe. We could have tripped something and not even known it. Let's go, Tom."_

**o0o**

Emotions were running high and hot after a successful mission. Together with werewolf volunteers from Neville's pack and a couple of rebel cells in France, Tom and Harry were able to take out the biggest of the Mugwump's breeder compounds. Effectively shutting down the creation of half his Creature forces.

No more muggles forced to breed. No more forced muggle infections of vampirism and werewolves. No more Veelas being forced to keep the men docile and compliant with their allure. No more experimentation with crossbreeding to weed out the weaknesses of man and turning them instead into beasts of burden and dangerous, grotesque mockeries of mightier creatures.

It had been four years since Tom Riddle and the grandson of Severus Snape had rescued him from his prison. His tomb. Harry had grown from a weak, stubborn teenager into a warrior. There was no one Tom trusted more to have his back, and Harry begrudgingly agreed with him.

Neither one spoke of what happened in the night as Tom dressed beside Harry's lumpy bed. They didn't acknowledge the change between them as they poured over strategy and maps and discussed tactics with Lucina and Alana and the others who made up Tom's inner circle in what Harry knew to be a 'state sanctioned' rebellion. After all, Harry had learned quickly that you can't have a hero without a villain. You can't maintain power in a vacuum and so long as the bogeyman Lord Voldemort still lived and stalked the night... the Lord of Light, the Supreme Mugwump of Magical Earth would be able to keep his stranglehold on mankind for... well... as long as Tom lived.

And Tom lived only so long as Harry lived.

At least... until they figured out how to get rid of the horcrux without killing him.

Yes, Tom killed his parents. Yes, Harry had killed his host in Quirrell. And destroyed the horcrux with the largest piece of Tom's soul in it. Tom had tried to kill him again at his resurrection. And Harry had tried to torture Tom's most loyal, but crazy, captain. They had a history of violence between them, and though their actions were instigated by others, the fact was it were they who raised the wands. It were they who chose to fight and battle one another to the death.

But for a few hours every once in a while... or even just a few minutes in a dusty closet... they could forget about that. Forget about the war and the fighting and the scar on Harry's head and the missing pieces of Tom's soul. They could chase away the pain together and seek their own twisted sense of forgiveness and acceptance in the breathy moans and the dragging of nails on skin.

**o0o**

Seven years.

Seven years since he'd been found and rescued.

Three since he and Tom had started their... whatever it was they'd never bothered to label.

And it all came down to this.

"Harry my boy..."

_"I'm not your boy, Albus!"_ Harry shouted as he cradled Tom's head in his lap with one hand, the other holding tight to the wand of his father. The wand that since he had returned to this strange, horrible future had never failed him. _"I was never YOUR boy!"_ he screamed, uncaring that no one – no one left alive could understand his words. His hisses and his clicks. The bumbling but familiar flailing of his hands in an argument.

It didn't take long for Harry to figure out that somehow, somewhere along the way in the last 3 years the horcrux was gone. He should have noticed it's absence in the blush of Tom's cheeks. The brightness in his eyes and the joy in his smiles after successful hunts. He should have seen it in the way Tom had changed when they were alone. The softness in his touches when before it had been all biting teeth and biting nails digging into skin as they desperately clung to one another in the dark.

But he hadn't noticed. He hadn't felt the difference. Not really.

Finally... finally Sirius's words from over a century ago when they had first met... they made sense. He didn't feel the absence of the horcrux because he had something far stronger. Far better. Somehow, mutual understanding, mutual need had developed into something more. And it had settled in Harry's heart alongside the ghosts of the friends and family he still mourned.

_"The ones that love us,"_ Harry's voice hissed in a whisper. _"They never really leave us..."_ Angry green eyes turned now to the man who had been responsible for all of this. All the heartbreak, all of the pain of his life. He raised his wand, swallowing thickly. He pushed all of his hatred. All of his pain and his rage into the spell that fell from his lips. Tasting the peculiar flavor of pennies that tended to fill his mouth when magic was building up for this particular spell.

The spell left his lips a fraction of a second too late, his wand tumbling from his hand as he slumped forward, covering Tom's body with his own.

Blue eyes twinkled in self satisfaction as the Elder Wand was put back in its rightful place up the Supreme Ruler's sleeve.

**o0o**

Tom Riddle was burned and his ashes scattered to the winds.

It was assumed, wrongly, that this was merely a setback. That Potter still had the horcrux within him.

Tom would, inevitably, regain a corporeal form and resume his one man war against the Greater Good. It may be ten years. Twenty. But Albus Dumbledore was certain he would return. Because he took steps to ensure it. A generation or two of peace would do everyone a bit of good. Help to re-establish the status quo.

Potter would be put back under. Stronger this time. And buried deeper in the earth where all would forget him. All but Tom.

**o0o**

Harry Potter was not killed. Though when he realized what had happened... his heart broke. He mourned and he screamed and he raged and yet his face showed nothing of the internal fury he felt.

He was a puppet on a string being led through twisting corridors and past glowing baubles on shelves. He beat against the fleshy prison that was the body piloted by another's will. The imperius was strong, but he was stronger. He had to be. He had no other choice. Tom was gone – dead now for good – and he was all that had been left. It couldn't end like this. He couldn't allow it to end like this.

So as Harry Potter marched on, flanked by guards on either side, he struggled to push through the control. To push through the thick, woolly blanket over his consciousness. He heard a crack of wood behind him the moment he was able to push through and regain control. Quick as lightning he reached out, grabbing a shelf and giving it a mighty pull before hissing a spell and phasing through the collapsing shelves of jars and baubles and orbs.

When he glanced back towards the chaos, he saw angry blue eyes behind spectacles and a broken, splintered elder wand in his hand. Harry smirked, and then he ran.

"STOP HIM!" boomed the voice that once, so long ago, had been kindly and warm like a grandfather doting on his favorite grandchild. His hands were thrust outward, fingers crackling with magic as he harnessed it on the fly just as Tom had taught him before he'd been given a new-old wand.

When he was surrounded, he gave a wave and a hiss and moved upward, black mist licking at his heels as he phased through obstacles and dodged spell-fire from below.

Harry knew there was no escape. Not now. And even if he did... he wasn't strong enough on his own to fight Dumbledore. He wasn't strong enough to replace the man he loved as the leader of a rebellion doomed from the start. A rebellion held together by futile hope for freedom and sheer spite of the ruling despot.

But Harry wouldn't let them get him. He wouldn't allow them to kill him. Not after Tom had fought so hard for so long to find him. To save him. To earn his trust and his forgiveness the hard way.

He felt a warmth in his chest and knew what he had to do.

He would go out, but he'd go out on his own terms doing the only thing he knew how to do best.

Harry fled, but he did not flee far.

A few rooms over was found the one thing he needed. The one thing that could guarantee him a victory even in death.

When he burst through the door, he was greeted by the ghostly whispers and the fluttering of a thin, tattered and gauzy sheet that blew in a windless chamber.

He moved forward with purpose. Green eyes hard and filled with fury.

He knew they weren't far behind him. He couldn't kill Dumbledore. He couldn't stop him in direct opposition. But he could remove the boogeyman from the legend of the great Mugwump. The reason for the Greater Good to keep throwing innocent men and women into an eternal conflict of Dumbledore's own making.

He waited before the Veil. He waited for them to catch up to him, to find him. And when he caught sight of the old, devious bastard that had ruined him... ruined Tom. Ruined so many more lives than they, he smiled and turned.

"NO!!!!"

He wondered, as he drifted into the cold embrace of death, if the shades of his family he had believed to have met were truly there or if they were figments of his imagination.

Either way, Sirius – if it had been him – was right.

It was easier than falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Figures stood over the resting form of a young man.

At least, it was the shape of a young man.

And they were figures in the vaguest sense of the term.

More... clusters of an idea. Thoughts given shape but no form to contain them. Colors perhaps. Or the absence of. The figures, beings, entities, things, existed. How they existed there was no certainty to such things. They were everything and they were nothing. Or they were at one time. Or always are.

The Deathless realm was strange in that way. For it was both existence and non-existence.

To the mortal mind they were separate, but part of a whole in some way.

To the shape – the idea – of a young man laying on the cold ground that wasn't really ground, they hadn't a clue what they were. Just the suggestion of things. They were called into existence merely because he was there and so now, so were they.

And so the figures watched and they waited and they pondered their own existence for what might have been an eternity. Or for what might have been no time at all.

**o0o**

Of the vague suggestions of things that might or might not exist, one began to take form. And as it filled the shape of the form, words came to it. Names. Ideas. Philosophies. And power. Such immense power.

And as its form became solid, well, as solid as the shape of the young man who still lay silent and unmoving on the ground that wasn't truly there, it remembered. It remembered what it was. It was indeed part of a whole. But it was separate. An abstract. An idea. An... aspect.

And it crouched before the young man, bony finger reaching out to brush shaggy, inky black hair back and expose a marking there. "Curious..." the figure spoke. "There is a spark here. Clinging.... Clinging to something..." And the bony finger traveled down the young man's cheek. Along the jaw and down what would have been a neck if forms and shapes were real in this non-place. Down. Down the bony finger traveled until it stopped. "How peculiar..." it said. "So warm. So..." It searched for the right word, and then the thin, filmy flesh that was stretched tight across a skull pulled into a hideous and grotesque mockery of a smile. "Alive."

It looked up to another of the figures that had begun to shape itself into a form. It searched for an explanation for what it had discovered in the young man shape. But it could not find one.

"He has been judged," the new form said. "His soul has been weighed. It has been measured." And she smiled softly as she set her scale aside. "And he has been found worthy."

Worthy of what, the bony one in the dark cloak wondered. And so they waited. And they watched the young man shape. A living thing in the land of the Deathless. The land of nothing and everything.

**o0o**

Three forms took shape quite a while – or no time – later. Three old hags with needle, thread, and tapestry. Weaving and sewing and spinning and cutting. Spindle after spindle.

"One thread causing so much damage... so much trouble. So much death."

The bony one looked up. Death... Death yes. That is what it was. It was Death. In this shape and form that was its function. It could sense what is alive and make it un-alive. It turned its attention back to the shape laid out before them.

**o0o**

"There we are... sisters. Sisters come look. Come see."

Death and Justice turned their attentions to the three hags. One held up a pair of scissors. Snipping. Snipping. Cutting away until at last there was a single thread. And yet it was not a single thread but two. And when each one tried to cut and snip, it would not break. "See how it twists. How it turns and writhes."

The three hags huddled over it. Watching it for a while.

Death turned its attention back to the shape. It had no use for watching the threads of life except when they were to be cut.

**o0o**

The five were joined by another shape that took form. An imposing figure it made. Even Death felt humbled in its presence and Justice awed. "It has been many eons since a mortal has come into this realm. Arms open and willing. Tell me what you know of it."

"Alive," Death answered quickly.

"Worthy," Justice added.

"Battered," the three sisters chimed in, with the eldest of them all grinning like a fool. "But never broken."

The newest form nodded and knelt down. "Begone. Your purpose is done," it said to the five, and just as they had appeared, they were gone. Without form and without care and back into the mass of the nothing and the whole.

The remaining form smiled gently, and it stroked the young man's cheek with the back of its fingers. There were few in Creation that it had shown favor. Fewer still who came to him here in this place willingly. Those who sought his favor sought power, and many sought power because of greed. Certainly that pustule that had followed the poor child into this place had learned quickly of the dire mistake it had made. With greed in it's heart and a lust for power unchecked...

He had been asked something, long ago, of one who did not come to his realm by choice, but had been foisted through the gateway to his realm while protecting the life of another. "If I'm not going to hell, then how bad does a soul have to be to get there?"

The figure smiled as he recalled its words. He was such a funny, funny man. If he were in the mood to keep pets he likely would have kept that one. But... his selfless act had earned forgiveness of his misdeeds in life. And he was judged accordingly. To spend his days in Elysium as he had always wished. To rejoin the brothers and friends he had lost along the way. But the pustule... that went into the Nothing. Into the maw of the abyss. In life it had wanted absolute power. Absolute fame. Absolute glory. And in death it would receive the same that it had given to others. Eternal nothingness.

But this one... This one was deemed Worthy.

And it had been so long since he had seen one like him.

The Entity leaned in, and placed a gentle kiss to the scar upon the man's head. "I bless you, my favored, with the power of the Arius. Until you find your calling I name you Adamas, the Unconquered. Use your gifts wisely my child and nothing will stand in your way."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal speech."  
>  _"Parseltongue."_

Harry didn't quite understand where he was at first. It was... it was hazy and confusing and... he put a hand to his forehead. There was something.... something he needed to...

And then, opening his eyes to see the ceiling of the smallest bedroom of Number 4, Privet Drive he closed them again.

A sinking feeling settled in his gut. He'd been caught. Again. That was the only explanation he had for waking up in the worst possible place he could remember.

Harry rolled over, closed his eyes again, and missed the tapping at the window of the owls that had brought him gifts at midnight.

**o0o**

Harry woke the next morning to an irate owl tapping at his window. And a smaller one looking rather tired, but still flapping away beside Hedwig. He opened the window to let them in and tried to sort everything out in his head.

It was.... strange. Everything felt so real. So solid. Compared to the dream world he was trapped in before, this was of a much better quality. Perhaps Dumbledore had to expend more of his power to keep Harry under this time. He smiled at the thought of even being a minor inconvenience to the man. Though he'd rather be dead now that he knew there was no coming back for Tom, every little thorn in the old man's side was better than nothing at all.

At least until the man realized Harry's usefulness had ended the same moment Tom's life did.

Harry took minor comfort in the fact that one day... one day he'd be with Tom again. Just the thought of it made his heart swell with warmth. He knew the truth now. He'd fight to keep every scrap of it. Every memory he'd made in the real world since his rescue and waking. He wouldn't forget old Luna and her stories. Her daughter Diana and her caring bedside manner as she patched him or Tom up after a mission. Lucina's sword fighting lessons. Alana's fireside tales. Neville's kindness which had only been bolstered by his affliction rather than lost.

Or Elias Snape's sacrifice that night he and Tom had finally found him. Sure, his birth name had been Theodore Tonks, but he'd chosen to honor his father when he betrayed the Mugwump. Screaming in defiance that he was a Snape, not a Tonks.

These were the memories that would keep him sane. Keep him rooted in the truth even as the lies of the dream world pushed and pulled him this way and that.

**o0o**

Harry came to the realization that this was not a dream when he cast his patronus to save himself and Dudley from the dementors.

It wasn't a stag that had jumped out at him. It wasn't even the python the patronus had become later after he and Tom had started...

It was a hellish looking beast of a wolf that he had cast not with his wand, but with his hand. A large, glowing thing that he could have sworn might have been on fire had it not been for the fact the thing was made of light and energy and his happiest memory.

The patronus never left the tunnel.... And neither had the Dementors.

When the patronus faded, Harry stared at his hand in disbelief, and then his unsettled green gaze moved to the heaps of rotted flesh and bone cradled in black gauzy rags.

He had just killed two Dementors.

Dementors can't die.

And yet... yet he just did it. Without a wand.

Quickly Harry scrambled to his feet. There was no time to waste. He had to get Dudley home and get plenty of chocolate into him before the Ministry caught wind of what had just happened.

**o0o**

Harry was confined to his room.

A howler never came.

A speaking letter from the ministry never came.

And neither did a letter reassuring him that the Order had everything covered for him.

He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

One thing was for certain... This could not have been a dream world. Because even Albus Dumbledore believed you can't kill a dementor. And Harry's dream reality depended solely on what its creator believed was and was not possible.

**o0o**

An escort came for him on August 30th to take him to Headquarters before trotting him off to school like a good boy.

Harry at least had enough sense to pretend to be relieved he was leaving the Dursley house.

After all, he was looking forward to it a little. He wanted to see Sirius again now that he knew it couldn't be a dream. It wasn't a false reality and him the only prisoner.

Besides, he still had work to do at Hogwarts. He needed to get the diadem before anyone else found it. He needed to get it back to Tom if there was any hope in restoring the man's soul to him. And while he was at it... He could get the locket from Kreature while he was at HQ.

**o0o**

The morning of September first was hectic. But thankfully in the chaos Harry was able to get a few moments alone in the loo. After throwing up some powerful parsel privacy charms, he called for Kreature. And it took quite a bit of convincing, but when he left that bathroom, the locket was safely in Harry's pocket, presumably being carried off to be destroyed on behalf of Regulus Black.

**o0o**

Stubbornly Harry wrote out his lines.

He played his part like a good little tool.

He carved the words into his hand and grit his teeth and took comfort in the fact that when all was said and done, it would be worth it.

He would endure the pain because he knew greater pain. Pain was real. Pain meant he was awake and breathing and alive. He would refuse to submit because he could not be broken so easily. If the most dangerous wizard in two centuries could not break him, neither could a fucking pink toad.

He just had to hold out until winter break. If he could just hold on long enough, he could beat Dumbledore to the punch and get the ring first. Or rather... convince Tom to get to the ring first.

But for now, Harry bit into his lip enough to bleed and stubbornly continued to write the words. Words that, strangely enough, had served him well in the days of his future past. Slowly, but surely, **I must not tell lies** was carved into the soft flesh of his non-dominant hand.

**o0o**

Harry had never broken. Not once. At least not where the pink toad could see him.

Instead he slipped away to the Room of Requirement, always careful to take his map and his cloak with him to detention in his bag. The diadem was easily handed over by the room. Unsure if the diadem was even the right item, he had simply asked as he paced back and forth for three things. A room where not even a phoenix could enter and find him, supplies to treat his hand, and Tom Riddle's horcrux.

To discover that it was, indeed, the diadem was both a relief as well as a concern.

The second time he slipped into the Room of Requirement, he had asked for the same room with the same restrictions, supplies to once more treat his injured hand, and whatever the room could give him on the matter of horcruxes and magic pertaining to the soul.

**o0o**

On Halloween, Harry left Gryffindor Tower in the middle of the night. He left his wand behind, taking only his cloak and his map as he flitted through the halls and secret passages of the castle towards his destination. When he glanced at the map half-way to his destination, he changed course and instead headed lower in the castle. He did not want to give up the secret of the Room of Requirement. He had managed to avoid Hermione's grand idea of creating the DA this time. Not that she'd given up trying to convince him. But there were just some things Harry couldn't ignore and he needed his free time to deal with them. Not waste it teaching people who at the word of a power mad dictator would turn their backs on him should they ever learn the truth.

Harry saw the names and knew what he had to do. Let them think he was going back down to the Chamber. Well... he was going to at some point anyway, but now was as good a time as any.

When Harry had dropped into the tunnel, hissing the order to close behind him, he stood at the bottom of the pipes and watched the map by the glow of a lumos on the end of his finger. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were hovering around Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. They were still there when he checked again half an hour later.

Once secure in the Chamber, Harry looked to the carcass and froze. He had expected it to have started to decay by now. In the dream world, by the time of the Battle of Hogwarts the thing had been nothing but a skeleton. Bones. Just enough venom left to...

His green gaze shifted to the inky black stain on the marble floor near the carcass.

The diary was gone, now. And with it the piece of Tom's soul he himself had destroyed. He felt a pang of regret in his heart and an ache in his forehead at the memory. He'd been so stupid. So... so naive.

Harry turned away from the scene. With the carcass still as fresh as the day he'd slain the beast, it changed his plans somewhat.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled our a very letter he'd written. Enlarging it with a hiss, he smiled to see it hadn't been damaged. The cloak was draped over his arm as the map was folded and shoved into the back pocket like his holly wand often was. He'd given a lot of thought about which one to call to him. Dobby certainly would jump at the chance, but he needed an elf that wasn't just loyal, but closer to normal. One that didn't try to think outside the orders they were given and use their own judgment. Dobby was useful, but would ruin his plans if he thought for one moment Harry was making a mistake.

And given who the letter was addressed to... that would be a problem.

As for Kreature, he couldn't be certain that he had the elf's loyalty. Yes, the elf was grateful for Harry's intervention with the locket. But his only REAL interactions with the elf had been the time he spent at Grimmauld before Sirius's death. After that... nothing could be trusted. Nothing was reliably real until he woke up in that tomb in the cave.

But there was another option. One that, the fact his dream world completely overlooked it... presented the perfect opportunity.

"Winky," he called to the chamber. "Winky the Elf, if you can hear me, please come. I need an elf and you need a master."

Within seconds the drunken elf was before him, tears in her eyes and stinking of butterbeer.

"Is it true? Does Mister Harry wants Winky Elf?"

He nodded. "I do. I need a very dependable elf. One that knows her orders and will obey then no matter what. And knowing how you looked after Mr. Crouch's son for so long despite everything, I could think of no better elf for the job."

He smiled and held out his hand. "Come here, Winky Elf. No more Hogwarts kitchens and wages for you."

He ordered her to clean herself up and be presentable. He told her to put on what she knew to be proper for a house elf of her station. Harry was surprised to find that it was a very nice, very soft dress made of terrycloth in a blue and red plaid pattern. He made a vow to care for his elf, and his elf made a vow to serve her new master faithfully. And then, she was handed the letter to deliver.

"I know the name on this letter may surprise you, Winky. Especially considering who I am and who they are. But it's very important that this letter be sent. You need not wait for a reply, but be respectful. If they ask whom sent you, you are simply to say that your master has forbidden you from saying his name aloud and the answer is in the letter. Is that clear, Winky?"

"Yes, Master Hardwin."

"Harry."

"As you say, Master Hardwin," she replies, taking the letter and giving a low curtsy before popping away.

Harry snoops around the Chamber some, vowing to return to deal with the carcass at the next opportunity.

**o0o**

It's two weeks before he's able to slip away again. Hermione and Ron watching him like a hawk. He's done his best to be the Harry he once was. But it's difficult to maintain the duplicity. Especially when he had sent Winky off with more letters so that he could get his affairs in order without anyone – namely Albus Dumbledore – the wiser.

One reply to one of his letters he had not been expecting. Winky had quietly slipped it into his pocket that morning before he joined his friends in the common room. He had waited until he could be alone, and had chosen the Chamber for his solitude, to read the letter written in the strange squiggles that made sense only to himself and one other.

Lord Voldemort does not deign to write common letters... or so he proclaims in the common letter he had written in reply. However given the... subject matter of which Harry had written him about he could not help but indulge the boy out of mere curiosity.

Harry was just grateful to learn that the ring was once more where it belonged. Safe with Tom... even if he was batshit insane at the moment.

Harry did not bother to write a reply. His reply would be made in person soon enough.

In the meantime... "Winky, your master needs you," he said as he burned the letter. It wouldn't do to keep it around and have it found by those who meant only the best with their intentions. Winky appeared seconds later and banished the ash from the letter.

"Master Hardwin calls for Winky?"

"Yes. I have more letters for you to send. However... I have a few questions as well, pertaining to Elf Magic."

"Master Hardwin has questions to ask? Winky will do her best to answer."

Harry handed her the letters first, and when she returned from her deliveries, she found him sitting near a stain on the floor. She raised her hand to banish it, but he hissed at her angrily. She didn't understand what was said, but it certainly stopped her in her tracks. She would not banish the spot. Nor was she to clean it in any way. That much was made perfectly clear.

"Sorry, Winky."

"No. Winky should have asked Master first. Winky is bad elf."

"Winky is the best elf. Now Winky, bring me tea and then you will answer my questions."

He asked her numerous things about house elves and their magic. And was quite pleased to learn that the stronger the master, the stronger the elf. No wonder Dobby had been able to get away with so much while bound to the Malfoys... they were pretty weak all things considered. Not entirely, and their creativity more than made up for what they lacked in magical strength, but still... the bond with Dobby was already weak. And Harry as a prospective master was more than enough motivation to break such a bond in all but technicality.

"Good. I don't need to get another elf to help you then. I don't want another, as you are everything I need in a good and loyal elf." Her chest puffed up at his words and pride shone in her large, bulging eyes. "One of the letters I had you take this time was to a bank in Greenland run by Dwarves. They will call you to them soon, and when they do, they will ask you to bring the giant dead snake behind you. Can you do this?"

"Winky can because Winky's Master is very strong. Makes Winky very strong."

"Good. Thank you for everything you do for me, Winky. The next time I call you, we will leave this terrible place and not come back."

**o0o**

There was something about the ink stain on the floor...

Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Research in the room of requirement yielded no results. And searching the Chamber of Secrets much the same. He had expected there to be some kind of hidden library. Or a secret potion store. Or even, possibly, an apartment. Just something to make it worth hiding a giant fucking snake down there.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but the snake and the statue.

He had come down to the Chamber one more time before the winter break was to begin. He had no plans to come down there, but watching the map he had realized someone had discovered the Room of Requirement after all. And judging by the names he saw disappear... he wasn't very surprised. Though he did have to wonder where Hermione got the idea to form the DA from in the first place. And why, specifically, Ginny strongly suggested they name it after Dumbledore. All things he pondered as he sat in his favorite spot on the floor of the Chamber, absently running a finger across the ink stain. The carcass had been removed at the first opportunity the Dwarves had, and the parts were being sold at a high profit margin for both himself and his new bank. Save for some parts Harry had wanted kept back for himself of course.

"Would Master Hardwin like Winky to cleave the stone and remove the stain for him?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when she snuck up on him like she did. _"Bloody hell!"_ he hissed in surprise, holding a hand to his chest as if it may slow his rapidly beating heart. Then, in English, he said, "What?"

"Master is fond of the stain. Winky can remove it so Master can take it with him."

"Winky it's solid-" And his words were cut off as she magicked up a chisel and a mallet. "Marble."

"Well?"

Harry looked down to the ink stain, then back at Winky. With a sigh and a nod, he waved his hand in the motion she now understood meant "Fine, why not. Go ahead."

He watched her work for a time, trying to think about his next moves and where he should go. He didn't want to run straight into the arms of Voldemort just yet. Though he would get there eventually when the timing was right. But he also couldn't go to his godfather. He couldn't risk getting caught so soon after breaking free. "Winky?"

"Yes Master Hardwin?"

"Why do you call me that, by the way? I've asked you to call me Master Harry."

"It's your name, Master. Winky is a good elf. Winky must always use her master's name. It is a strong name. Winky thinks Master Hardwin should be proud of his name."

"But Winky, it's always been Harry. Harry Potter."

Winky shook her head, then realized what she had done and looked almost fearfully at him. "Winky is sorry, Master..."

Harry frowned but didn't want to forget what he had even wanted to ask her. "We'll come back to that another time, alright," he said. "What I wanted to ask you was if, since you're linked to me through my magic, you knew of anywhere I could go to hide that belonged to my family or me. A place I might not yet know about."

Winky stopped her work. She was nearly done anyway. The elf closed her eyes and thought hard about the problem, then nodded. "Oh yes. Several. But there's one that would be best of all. Yes. Winky knows of it. Old family magic protects it."

"Then when we leave here, I would like to go to this place. You will take me and everything I own there."

Winky nodded sagely and returned to her task. When she was finished, the chisel and mallet were vanished and the block of marble with the entirety of the ink stain was floated before him. "Now Master can take it with him when we leaves here."

"Thank you, but I don't know how I'll be able to carry that."

"We puts it with the other two just likes it."

"What other two?"

"The other two pieces, Master."

"But I don't-" And then it hit him. And when it did he felt the warmth flooding his chest again. Tom... Tom was never the diary. He was the ink. The thrice damned INK used in the diary. And most of it had flooded out when he'd stabbed it. Most of had managed to escape from the book before... Before Harry could kill it! _"Winky! You're a bloody genius!"_ he exclaimed in a hiss, leaping forward and grabbing the diminutive creature up. He held her in the air and spun, joy lighting up his face and relief thrumming in his heart alongside the warmth that resided there still. Even the slight throbbing in his forehead couldn't diminish the flood of emotions that had overcome him at the realization.

He put her down, and she frowned at him as she brushed out the wrinkles in her plaid terrycloth dress.

"Yes," he said enthusiastically, then in English. "Yes! Please, put it with the other two! For that matter, gather all of my things that I don't have with me now and take them to our new home. Make sure there's nothing on them that can lead anyone to finding us."

With a low curtsy, Winky nodded and left him, taking the marble chunk with her.

**o0o**

Winky had thought of something Harry hadn't.

People would notice his trunk missing.

So she took it, emptied it in their secret bolthole, and then returned it with a clean change of clothes for him the next day, and a pair of pajamas.

There was a little note, in blocky, childish handwriting, that told him exactly what she had done for her master.

He smiled and burned it before he changed into his pajamas.

**o0o**

His sleep was fitful, but not because of Voldemort. He knew that now. Because his dream started off rather... nice. Well, nicer than some nightmares he'd been on the receiving end of.

It was a standard Death Eater meeting. Not much had changed there even with Voldemort now in possession of the ring. Though he was glad to see that Snape wasn't being crucioed within an inch of his life anymore.

He still didn't like the miserable bastard, but he respected him. It took balls to put yourself between two madmen on a regular basis. That and, well, from what he'd learned about the man's future son – who might now never exist – Snape couldn't have been all bad if Elias had been able to break away from Dumbledore in the end.

But no, what made this sleep fitful wasn't anything to actually do with Voldemort. Because before the really horrible part of his nightmare began, Nagini was curled up beneath the man's throne. Occasionally making snide remarks as he listened to reports from his followers and punished them accordingly. So she couldn't have been in the Department of Mysteries. She couldn't have attacked Arthur Weasley.

Which meant something else... or someone else... had.

Just as before, he had no control over the events that he watched take place. And as the head swerved, he saw the reflection of a snake in the shiny walls of the corridor leading to the department of mysteries. Yet... that shouldn't have been possible. Yes, the tiles on the walls were highly polished, but not enough for a clear and detailed reflection...

Just before Arthur was stricken, Harry ripped himself out of the nightmare and found himself once again in the throne room of Voldemort. This time from a rather odd perspective than he had been before. Before he had been seeing things from Voldemort's eyes. Now, however... He was lower. Yet not low to the ground as he would have been had he linked to Nagini.

He was the ring. Or was the ring him? He wasn't certain. But what he WAS certain of was that the ring itself was the horcrux, not the stone. The stone was untouched. Separate and protected from the dark magic that had been foisted upon it. That was quite interesting. However before Harry could think on it further, he was awakened by Winky.

"Master must go now. Master is in danger."

"Winky?"

"Blood traitor's sire was attacked. Vile, evil man in tower say you know. Say you saw."

"But I..."

"Master we must go now. Not tomorrow. NOW."

He reached for his glasses, but she slapped his hand. He reached for his wand out of habit but she slapped his hand again. "No. Not safe. Winky protect Master. Hurry. Take Winky's hand."

Harry nodded, staring at the elf with bleary eyes. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, and she wrapped her other hand around his wrist. In a nearly silent pop, Harry was gone. Just as the curtains of his bed had been pulled aside with Ron and Professor McGonogall looking confused as to where the boy would have gone without his glasses and his wand.

**o0o**

Harry landed with a thud in a dark room. The floor was stone, old and uneven. The walls, near as he could tell, were of the same type of stone. It was dark out, and he could not see. Soon, there was a fire blazing in the hearth and Winky brought him some furs to keep warm.

"Master is safe now. Master is safe here."

"Where.... Where is here, Winky?"

"Ancient Potter home. Master's magic is linked to magic here and elsewhere. But here there is a home. There... There was broken and ruined."

"Okay..." he said, rising to his feet and wrapping the furs tighter around himself. "Is there a bed here? Chairs? Somewhere I can rest?"

She shook her head. "No, Master Hardwin. Not yet."

Harry sighed and was thankful for the socks he'd had on his feet when he went to bed. He wandered the room, finding shelves lined with books and trinkets. He saw every one of the school books he'd ever bought. Gilderoy's collection took over an entire shelf. Photographs filled gaps here and there. The smiling faces of his parents. Remus and Sirius as teenagers. A muggle photo of his mum in her Hogwarts uniform looking awkward and embarrassed in a house he didn't recognize.

The shelves were all carved into the stone rather than pieces of furniture. _"Winky?"_ he hissed, not realizing he'd slipped into Parsel. It was easier to speak than human languages. And he'd been using it alone for so long that he hardly noticed the change in his speech when it happened. Usually he took his cues from others around him, or from Winky when she looked confused but unafraid at him when he did. He picked up a frame with a photo he'd never seen before. It was a muggle picture. One with two people that looked... vaguely like his parents but... "Where... Where did this come from?"

Winky was standing at his side and reached up, gently putting her hands on his arms to urge him to lower it so she could see. The elf smiled fondly and nodded. "Master Hardwin does not know many things. Winky is... bad elf. Winky is snoop." She tugged at her ears, but not out of fear or distress at punishment. She knew her master would not harm her, or command her to harm herself like many other masters would. She just did not know what to say or how to say it. "Master will get mad at Winky for telling."

Harry shook his head and took the photo with him to sit on the floor closer to the hearth. He looked up to the mantle to see the marble with the ink stain sitting there as if in pride of place. Propped up against the stone wall. His attention went back to Winky as he indicated she was to join him by the fire. He hissed, but then caught himself and tried again in English. "Winky, what is it that I'll get mad about if you tell me?"

"Master's mean family lied to him. Kept things of Master's parents."

Harry looked back down to the photo in his hands, tracing the familiar yet unfamiliar faces smiling back at him in the static picture. _"This was taken in a muggle hospital,"_ he said quietly. "Winky is a good elf," he said. "Winky has found things for Master that he did not dare to hope for."

"Winky only wants to be loyal and good. Winky only wanted to know Master so Winky knows what he wants. What he needs and likes."

"Thank you... What else did you find, Winky?"

The elf's eyes widened and she smiled much more hugely than before. Winky popped away and then returned with a large cardboard box. He set the photo aside carefully and began digging around in its contents. He found many things. More photos of his parents but they didn't look like they did in all the other wizarding pictures. Plane tickets. Passports... Birth certificates. Three of them. "Is this where you got my name from, Winky?"

The elf nodded as Harry sat back with the documents in his hands. The one with his name on it – His name was Hardwin. Hardwin Romulus Evans! He was never Harry Potter! Not really! He was born in a muggle hospital in Wales! And... And... He looked from the names of his parents on the birth certificate to one of the others. Tears in his eyes as he held it close to his face so he could see it clearly without his glasses. There, in black typeface, the slightly uneven lettering of a typewriter had stamped clear as day. Liliam. Marcus. Evans. Born the 30th of January, 1960. He set it aside and looked at the third one. Clearly newer than the other one. But with all the relevant information. "They... they must have claimed they'd lost it. Or it got burned or something..." Harry hissed to himself as his fingers ghosted over the name there. Jamie. Florence. Potter. Born on the 27th of March, 1960 to Fleamont Henry Potter and Euphemia Constance Potter. Harry scanned the rest of the page to see that it did, in fact, have a seal that matched the one on his own. Meaning it was made around the same time. A replacement for one that likely never even existed.

"Winky, I think I'd like to have a bit of a lie down now. I don't.... I can't..."

Though Winky didn't understand his words, she believed she knew her new master well enough by now to know what it was he needed. She carefully packed everything into the box except the framed photo, which was placed back on the shelf with loving care. The box was returned to another room of the 12th century stone home and a pillow was provided for him. Where it came from, Harry didn't ask as he curled up under the furs and closed his eyes.

**o0o**

Hedwig had found her way to him the third day he had been there. Though she couldn't come through the wards.

"Is there any way we can fix that, Winky?"

Winky looked up from the garden she'd been weeding to prepare it for spring. She watched the owl continue to bounce of the wards with a frown. "Someone's bewitched Master's familiar."

"What?"

Winky nodded. "Winky will fix." She popped away, and soon, so did Hedwig.

Harry saw neither of them until the following day, when he woke from his pile of furs to find Hedwig nipping at his ear until he'd wake.

Winky told him there were many charms on her. So Winky took Hedwig far away to take them off before bringing her back home to Harry.

Day five saw Winky shakily presenting him with a copy of the Daily Prophet with his breakfast. Harry read the largest headline and burst into laughter. ** _"Boy-Who-Lived Kidnapped!"_** he hissed happily as he ate his bacon. He tossed a strip to Hedwig despite Winky's disapproving look. And then he read further. Arthur Weasley was in critical condition at St. Mungoes. He turned the page and promptly lost his appetite. There, in black and white, was a photo.

It was a photo of a very normal house in a very normal neighborhood. A very normal family with a very normal name lived there on the very normal street of Privet Drive.

What was not so normal was the Dark Mark hanging above the home. The home with no windows and flames licking at the rosebushes that Harry had spent his childhood so meticulously keeping perfectly manicured with the rest of the award winning lawn. Though not this last summer since the heatwave damn near burned everything. But damn it if he wasn't proud of those rosebushes! They'd gotten his aunt Petunia third place eight years in a row! Second place for the last three! Again, except this last summer. But that couldn't be helped. He couldn't control the bloody weather.

Harry put down the paper and pushed his plate away. "Winky, I think it's time to visit the Dwarves. Will you please go out and purchase me something appropriate to wear for the trip?"

**o0o**

Harry looked more confident than he felt. Sure, he was a 22- no, 23 year old trapped in a teenager's body but that still didn't mean he wasn't also that anxious bundle of raw nerves he'd always been. And he didn't even have a wand – not that he needed one but...

But he walked into the dreadfort that served as the bank known only as Ghemdoral Hold to those who even knew of it and the creatures that mined the earth below his feet. He held his head high with his hair wild and free. He'd thought Winky would insist he try to tame it, but she had insisted he let his hair do what it will. He had a dagger strapped to his hip, which he could use in place of a wand if he really had to. The hilt was plain, and the blade only slightly dull. It would cut, but not as well as it should have been able to.

Harry had also thought the elf would give him wizard's robes to wear, but instead she had bought him trousers that reminded him of a fantasy novel he had found in an abandoned hospital with Tom as they sought out medicines for the rebellion. His shirt wasn't much better, but he'd convinced her to let him wear a t-shirt instead of the tunic she'd brought him. Not like it would matter anyway with the dragonhide jerkin she'd made him wear. The crest she had carefully etched into it by hand and traced with gold was not what he had expected it to be either. It wasn't very big, but it wasn't all that small either.

To finish what he was wearing, Winky had tied a neckerchief around his neck, smoothing it out as best as she could with a smile. The matching color of the plaid was not lost on him when he looked at it, and then her dress. "Yous is an Evans, Master Hardwin. An Evans from Wales. This is the colors of your house. Winky is proud to wear them."

He fingered the soft fabric even now as he stepped into the unfamiliar world of a Dwarven run bank.

He waited his turn before going to a window. It was all very modern compared to the goblins at Gringotts. He quite liked it. "Hello. My name is Hardwin," he said. "I'm here to speak with... I believe the name I was given was Mifur the Grumblebuster, son of Mofur." He consulted the letter he'd received to his hastily written request to meet with someone in regards to his new accounts.

The teller at the window narrowed its eyes at him a moment before looking to his hands. Then to his face. The eyes never traveled to his hairline, however. And he was grateful. Then... then the gaze stopped on his chest. "Hardwin what?" the dwarf asked in a gruff tone.

"Hardwin Evans," he said without hesitation.

The dwarf smiled and gave a nod. "First time here?" Harry nodded and the dwarf laughed some in a more friendly manner. "Door to the left, Lord Evans. The blue one."

Harry gave a small nod of his own and looked around, spotting the blue door and making his way towards it, not quite knowing what to make of the more friendly demeanor of the bank teller.

**o0o**

"You lot sure love your paperwork over here," he said as he shook out his hand, signing the last one.

"We are a smaller bank, you understand, Lord Evans," Mifur said, twirling his moustache. "Very discrete, but also very thorough. I know you read what you just signed, but to put it bluntly, you now own your own home again."

_"What?!"_

"Did you not know? When you insisted we look into reclaiming your lost property, we discovered Gringotts had been paid yearly rent by your stupid government to use your home in Godric's Hollow as a memorial site. And not a penny of that money was going to your vaults! It's not fair. It's not right. So now, the property belongs to you again or so help me we'll have new goblin skin bath mats in every home of the Kingdom Under the Mountains."

Harry was shocked, so shocked in fact he really couldn't come up with anything to say other than, "Is... Is there anything else you need me to sign while I'm here?"

And another stack was dropped onto the table with a grin from Mifur. "Oh yes, Lord Evans. Lots."

Harry did not see daylight for another day and a half. His hand was cramping. Both hands were cramping.

And his eyesight was much better than it had been. They had offered to remove the "unsightly, wicked thing" in his forehead but he declined. "I've another plan for this," he'd said, tapping his head and feeling the familiar warmth in his heart.

The offer was still standing, though, if he ever changed his mind.

When Harry left the bank it was with a clean slate, a bag of potions, and a receipt for dwarven made furniture from a town three caverns over. Simply because he'd complimented the craftsmanship of the table and chairs that were being used and had made mention that he didn't even have a bed in his new house yet.

Well that wouldn't do, apparently. A lord sleeping on a pile of furs like an animal. Pfft. Mifur couldn't allow the man who gave them a basilisk to sell to continue living like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the Evans of Wales plaid. They call it a tartan, but i don't think it actually IS a tartan, so I'm trying to not call it that in fic. (if i miss it though, please do let me know!)](https://www.tartanregister.gov.uk/tartanDetails?ref=4842)  
> If the link doesn't work- https://www.tartanregister.gov.uk/tartanDetails?ref=4842  
> This is the plaid that Winky's dress is in, as well as the neckerchief that she has purchased for Harry to wear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal speech."  
>  _"Parseltongue."_

The Daily Prophet was still claiming he'd been kidnapped out of his bed at Hogwarts. After his trip to the bank, a smaller headline read that access to the Potter Memorial House was suddenly revoked but the Ministry was looking into it. Harry cackled as he poked at the fire before settling in on his new overstuffed muggle-style dwarven made chair with his fur blankets and a book from the box of his parents things.

It wasn't anything magical. It wasn't a personal journal of his parents. But a simple science fiction novel. It had been an anniversary gift from Lily to Jamie, with the words "Saw this and thought of you and the boys," inscribed inside the front cover along side the "Happy Anniversary, Darling!" in the loopy handwriting he'd seen occasionally in the photo album Hagrid had put together for him in first year.

Arthur Weasley, the paper said, was likely to make a full recovery. And as for the muggles attacked when Potter had disappeared?

One survived. That's all anyone knew.

He didn't really care. He knew it wasn't Tom who'd ordered the attack. Hell, Tom didn't even know WHERE he went every summer. Snape hadn't told him as far as Harry knew. And Harry knew quite a lot through the dreams he shared with the man.

But for now, Harry didn't worry about any of that. He curled up in his chair with his book and a cup of hot cocoa Winky had made for him. And he contented himself with his hard earned holiday.

**o0o**

The bank had found him. Or rather, Gringotts had. Angry as hell, they were. He didn't dare touch the various letters he received from them. He'd instead used magic to gently open them and keep them at a safe distance while Winky held up a large magnifying glass so he could read them.

 _"Boy, they weren't happy to crack open my vaults and find them all empty, were they?"_ Harry snickered as yet another Gringotts letter was put on the fire.

**o0o**

It was well past the time the students had returned to Hogwarts before Harry saw Kreature again. Kreature and a rather annoyed looking Sirius Black. The two of them unable to enter the wards at the edge of Harry's property. And it was a rather large property.

Harry had changed since the last time he'd seen anyone he knew from his life. And it was not the scrawny teen that had come out to greet Sirius at the border of the wards. It was a young man of 23, dressed like he was ready to go to battle with a dagger on his hip but no wand in his hand. He didn't bother with robes, but did wear a heavy fur lined cloak over his new basilisk skin jerkin – a gift from the Dwarves for his patronage and the large snake. Around his neck was the blue-red plaid kerchief. His booted feet crunched the snow as he came at last to a stop just inside his wards. Winky was at his side, wearing a longer terrycloth dress than usual, with longer sleeves and a little hood to keep her ears warm in the harsh winter.

"Sirius," he said simply. He knew he must look so very odd. He hadn't shaved since he'd taken the potions the Dwarves had given him. One every night for every year he wished to age himself. And he was glad to have done it. He felt more... normal in his skin again.

"Harry?"

Harry nodded, then glanced down to Kreature. "Was it you that found me?"

Kreature pulled at his ears.

"The little blighter was sneaking about in your and Ron's room when he thought no one was looking."

"Kreature is sorry, Master Harry... But Ungrateful, vile, horrible Sirius is wretched Kreature's True Master..."

"It's alright Kreature. Though I must say I'm quite surprised by this. I know I showed you a kindness by taking your burden but I'm not a member of House Black."

"Stupid mutt master named Harry Potter his."

Harry sighed and smiled. "These wards won't let anyone through who has trackers on them, Padfoot. That's why you can't get in. Someone wants you to lead them to me. I can't have that."

"What happened to you, pup?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't tell you... I wish i could. I really do. But it's too dangerous."

"Then come with me! We'll protect you, Harry, you know that!"

"I know," Harry said, licking his chapped lips before shaking his head. "But I can't come back to headquarters. It's not safe for me there. Too many eyes. Too many ears. Too many portraits."

"And you think you're safe out here in the middle of nowhere?! Harry, your family was attacked! Killed!"

"They weren't my family."

"Your mother's sister-"

"Petunia made it quite clear I was never welcome in their home. As did her husband and my cousin. I was attacked by fucking dementors last summer!" he shouted, causing Winky to wince before patting his leg gently as if trying to soothe an angry beast. "And no, it wasn't You-know-who either! The dementors hadn't abandoned their duty to Azkaban yet! The death eaters didn't even know where I lived! How the hell did they suddenly find out? Or was this another of those highly top secret Order Members Only bits of information?!"

"Master needs to go inside now. Master's magic is getting angry again."

Harry stopped and drew in a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. He did this a few times before nodding to Winky. "I'm fine. Why don't you go inside and check on Hedwig. I'm sure she must be getting anxious knowing how angry I am and not able to fly straight out here to me."

When Winky popped away, Harry shook his head and flung a warming charm at the house elf beside Sirius before giving the man one for himself. He didn't use his wand. He wanted Sirius to take this piece of information back with him. Harry had outgrown the need for it. An explanation for why he left it behind other than he knew it was an ill fit.

"When you see Remus again, could you pass along a message for me please?"

"I'm not your errand boy-"

"No, but you're the headmaster's lap dog," he snapped back viciously, almost hissing at him. But he reigned it in. "I just want you to tell him that his cub is safe and hidden. You've seen me with your own eyes. I... I know Moony must be driving him 'round the bend since I left. Knowing you've seen me, alive and well, might help some."

With that, Harry gave a nod to Kreature. "Goodbye my little friend. I hope that the next time we meet will be under much better circumstances. But you know you can never bring him here again. You can bring no one to my refuge. Not even yourself. I don't want you to come to harm and my wards will kill you if you try to force your way in."

Kreature glared at Sirius before grasping onto his master's leg with an old claw-like hand.

"Goodbye Sirius. I love you like a father. Even if we haven't had much time together. I hope that some day, you might come to understand why I'm doing this."

Harry did not turn away until Kreature had taken a yelling Sirius Black far away from his haven. But the sudden appearance of the Black elf did give him cause to worry. If Kreature could find at least the general area, then a certain elf with an affinity for him would never stop until he either broke through or got himself killed. And Harry couldn't have that.

Once inside, he removed his cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. "Winky, is it possible to block house elves from finding me?"

"Yes, Master."

"How about ones that are... especially attuned to me and my magic. Like Kreature since I'm Sirius's heir?"

Winky thought hard for a moment before snapping her fingers. A book slid from the shelf and came to rest on a table near Harry's favorite chair. It was a book he'd picked up from his vaults at the bank. "Parselmagic?" Winky nodded. "Mr. You-know-who is going to be awfully mad... Master Hardwin won his vault when he was a babe. Mean, vile, nasty old coot took it all! But Winky found it. Winky found it and cleaned it and took it back for Master!"

Harry gave her an affectionate pat on the head before sitting down and reaching for the book. "Thank you, Winky. Could I have one of your excellent cups of hot cocoa as I read? It soothes my head when the text gets a bit too technical for me."

Winky nodded and puffed out her chest proudly before doing as she had been asked.

**o0o**

"Are you sure this will work?" Harry asked his elf as they stood in the forest at the northern edge of his property.

Winky nodded. "Yes!" she nodded emphatically. "And Winky will always know what Master is saying when he hisses like snakes!"

"Alright then," he said with a shrug and looked back at the parchment he'd copied the spell on. They had to do this in the northernmost point of his property, and repeat it at the southernmost, then again easternmost and lastly westernmost. He couldn't make the wards less lethal without removing all of his wards, but he could make them so that only a Parselmouth could get through them. Well... a Parselmouth that shared his blood. His EXACT blood. Basilisk venom, phoenix tears, and all.

And yes, he knew exactly what that meant.

Harry handed Winky a potion, then cut his hand and she cut her own. They mixed their blood together before sealing her wound and then he continued with the ritual. Casting using the dagger since he still didn't have a wand and the damned thing required a magical focus other than his bare hands.

At each point they did this Winky given another small potion. Cutting of their hands and mixing of their blood until finally, at the last point, Harry spoke only in parsel. And Winky stood wide eyed and in awe as she listened and the sounds changed to become words and phrases and entire sentences.

They experimented, once the wards were finished settling, to see if she could speak it. Unfortunately that ability was lost to her. But she could hear and understand it. The potion she had ingested allowed her master's blood to bind her to him more fully than a simple oath. She and any elflings she bore would be bound to him and his family. It was an old binding and could not be undone by mere giving of clothes. Only death could end her service. And knowing this gave Winky a sense of permanence she didn't realize she had needed after Crouch had so cruelly thrown her away for trying, and failing, to do her duty.

Harry was just so glad he didn't have to constantly repeat himself in English if he didn't really need to anymore.

**o0o**

It was darkness.

That was the first thing he noticed when he realized he was asleep.

And then there was pain.

Excruciating and debilitating pain.

And screams.

Harry knew those screams and his heart broke to hear them.

And then the darkness passed.

"My Lord?" he heard a voice from nearby. "My Lord, are you alright?"

 _"Again,"_ the voice hissed, then clarified. "AGAIN!"

"My Lord, the pain must be-"

"Severus, hand me another. Quickly! Before the madness returns!"

Harry couldn't see anything, but he knew Lucius Malfoy was present, as he'd been the one speaking. Asking after Voldemort's health. Severus must have been present as well, since he'd been ordered to hand over what Harry could only assume was a potion.

"Perhaps you should listen to Lucius-"

"No! The last time I listened to Lucius I was breaking into Azkaban to get Bellatrix and the others out! Why we didn't send her sister to get the cursed thing-"

"So you didn't want to-"

"Are you going to keep questioning me or are you going to help me?"

"Help you, of course my Lord. We're only concerned that this may be too much too soon-"

"There's one more left at hand. If you won't help me, then I'll do it my damn self!"

Harry heard a sigh, then a rustle of fabric before he felt fingers wrap around him. The sudden light was blinding, and he found he could not look around the room. Instead, he was an object. It was odd, much like it had been with the ring. He was turned, and now could see some of what was going on around him. Pale as a ghost, there sat a partially human Voldemort. To the side lay Nagini, dead and unmoving. On the table beside where Harry had been placed lay the ring. The stone was cracked and separated from the metal.

He never did see how his love had reabsorbed them. He never had noticed when he had absorbed the one inside himself. "Who and how was this one killed, My Lord?" Lucius asked him as Voldemort looked upon the cup with bloodshot eyes that, perhaps, might have once been the color blue.

"Hepzibah Smith," he said and Harry could hear it in his voice. In his tone. He ached to run his fingers through the thin patches of hair on that pale, mostly bald head. Yes he looked grotesque. Monstrous. But the man was trying, at least, to fix his soul. It could have been worse. "Poison in her cocoa," he said.

Harry could hear Severus gasp, and Lucius sighed before he started chanting in a language Harry was only vaguely familiar with. It was used in the books on horcruxes the Room of Requirement had supplied him with. The same books Winky had stolen from the school because they had, actually, been part of Dumbledore's private collection. A collection made from the possessions of others.

Voldemort reached for the cup after Snape dumped something in it. Harry felt a shiver as those thin, pale lips hissed what was truly a heartfelt and remorseful plea for forgiveness. And for just a moment, on the other end of the connection, Harry sighed as he felt those lips touch the cup before he was pulled violently from the dream.

Winky was standing over him, eyes wide in fear.

"Master! Master needs to wake!"

 _"What is it Winky?"_ he asked her, propping himself up on his elbows.

"A man is outside the wards, Master. He is hurt. He is very badly hurt and Winky doesn't know what to do!"

 _"You did right to wake me, Winky,"_ he said, sitting up and throwing the furs off the bed and summoning his clothes. He was dressed quickly and fastening his cloak at his shoulder as Winky affixed his dagger to his hip.

He pulled up the fur lined hood and stepped out into the cold February wind. Winky led him to the place at the wards where the man was. Harry never left his wards, but he wasted no time in casting diagnostics as Winky went about checking the injured man for any spells that may place her master in danger.

_"Where did he come from?"_

"I do not know, Master."

 _"Is he clean?"_ he hissed to her. _"No tracking spells? No imperius? No compulsions?"_

Winky nodded. Harry stepped out of the wards long enough to grab him and drag him in so that he would not be harmed. _"Take him into the house and put him in my bed. I'll summon a healer from our friends at the dreadfort."_

Winky nodded and did as she'd been told. Harry went back on foot. Retracing his steps gave him time to think. Time to ponder what might be going on. He hadn't gotten a good look at the man, just enough to know he would hardly be of much use. Healing magic, though he'd gotten better working with Luna and her daughter, still wasn't his strong suit. Neither were potions, but he'd made some progress with Tom in that regard. At least he was no longer as abysmal as he'd been in classes with Snape.

Harry went to the hearth and reached for the snuff box of special floo powder he kept there. He was on a floo network. Just not the one for Magical Britain. Banking with the Dwarves had many benefits, so long as he didn't break trust with them, they'd do right by him. He'd chosen them because Madame Zabini had suggested them in her reply to his very surprising letter to her. She wasn't a Death Eater, and she wasn't with the Order. She was a neutral party, at least he'd hoped she was. Expressing to her his displeasure with the goblins and how much of his inheritance had been squandered by thieves, she'd been more than happy to suggest the Dwarves to him.

Though that might have been because she had quite an investment with them as well.

None of that mattered as he cast his powder into the floo, hissing at the glowing blue flames until they turned purple and had the head of a dwarf sticking out of them.

"What can we do for you Lord Evans?"

"Sorry it's late but it's an emergency. There's a man here who's been badly injured, possibly by my wards. My elf is tending him now but I'm hopeless with healing magic. Some assistance would be nice."

"I'll send a healer through. Stand back a bit. She's a bit rotund."

Harry nodded and backed up. The dwarf that stepped out of the flames was indeed, quite rotund. He wondered if she'd fit through the doorway to his bedroom or if he'd have to butter her and the frame a bit to get her through. He quite liked the wispy hair on her chin though. She'd had it braided very nicely with little blue and purple flowers woven into it.

"Where is the lad then?"

Harry needn't worry about her fitting through the door. With a smile and a wink, she widened it for herself before passing through. Harry offered the use of Winky to help the healer tend to the man in his bed. Something she was quite grateful for.

**o0o**

"He's awake, Master Hardwin."

Harry yawned and stretched as he stood from his chair. Winky took his cloak which he'd used to cover himself for the night and hung it on the peg by the door. Harry looked a right mess, that was certain. But he didn't care. He stopped long enough to knock on the open door before stepping inside. "My elf told me you're awake. Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked before the head of the young man turned to face him.

Harry's green eyes went wide as he took in the sight in his bed. "Malfoy?!"

"Potter?!"

"What are you doing here?!"

"I could say the same for you!" Draco shouted, then winced before putting a hand to his head.

 _"Winky,"_ Harry hissed. _"Would you make a nice meat broth for our guest? Chicken, I think, might be best. Did the healer leave any pain potions or anything he needs to take?"_

Draco shuddered as he listened to the hissing from the strangely older Potter. And then those bright green eyes were on him again. "I've just asked Winky to fix you some broth. I hope chicken is alright. The healer left potions for you to take as well. The labels are in dwarvish but if you can't read it I'll translate it for you if you like."

Draco watched him as he wandlessly summoned a chair from the desk across the room, then seated himself in it beside the bed. "I don't know how you found me, but you're lucky you didn't try to get through the wards on your own. They're set to kill anyone that isn't me or my house elf unless I bring them through myself."

"What happened to you?" Draco eventually asked as Potter's elf set a tray across his lap with a bowl of broth and a spoon. "You're... older. Bigger."

Harry shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said. "Eat only as much as you need. Don't force yourself if you're not well enough. I can send word to your parents if you like. Or to Professor Snape instead. You're supposed to be at school right now, right?"

"So are you, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed, standing from his chair. "When you're through, just leave it on the chair. Winky will be in to show you what to take when."

Hours later, after Draco had gone back to sleep, Harry was sitting in his favorite chair with a headache that just wouldn't quit. _"I think it's time for me to make a visit to Tom,"_ he said. _"I had wanted to wait a few more months, but I don't think that's going to work."_ Harry stood from his chair and went to the mantle. The ink stained marble still sat front and center. Pride of place among other trinkets from the cardboard box. The locket was draped around a candlestick, and the diadem was tucked safely in a velvet lined box. He would keep the marble, for now. But peace could only be made with trust. And trust had to be earned. Besides, he had learned everything he could from both horcruxes in the locket and the diadem anyway. 

_"I need a mask of some sort,"_ he said. _"I can't just show up with this scar on my head."_

Winky looked around the room before snapping her fingers. She dashed off and Harry heard her humming the song she always hummed to herself when she cleaned his dishes. When she returned, she held up a silver spoon. "Use your magic, Master. Concentrate. A mask to blend in."

He took the spoon from her, then looked at her. She made little waving motions with her hands as if to say "Go ahead. It won't bite."

It took a few tries before he finally had something resembling what he needed. He held it up to get a better look at it, as if he and the mask were staring at one another.

"A wolfhound. Oh Master Hardwin that's a very handsome mask indeed!"

 _"You think so?"_ he asked, and she nodded. Harry grinned, putting it onto his face. _"What do you think my little darling?"_

"Oh Master it makes your eyes shine like little crystals!"

He lowered it and gave a nod. _"Well then, they'll never suspect it's Harry Potter walking right into the snake pit. Unless they see my eyes of course,"_ he added with a laugh. Harry cast a few charms to freshen himself up since he couldn't exactly go change with Draco laying up in his bed. He retrieved his cloak and put it on as Winky strapped his dagger on. Only... the weight was wrong.

He looked down and blinked. Then looked up at the beaming, mischievous elf. _"Winky..."_

"Winky is a good elf!" she replied. "That's Master's sword! Master Hardwin slew the beast with that sword!"

_"Now I know it's not my sword. It belongs to-"_

"Master's magic is all over that sword. Winky is no liar!"

Harry sighed. _"We'll be talking about this when I get home. Now, while I'm gone, don't let Draco leave my room except to go to the bathroom. If he gets bored, you can bring him any book from the Idiot Shelf,"_ he said, indicating the shelf of Lockhart books. _"And if he complains, you take him another one from the shelf."_

Winky curtsied as Harry pulled up his hood. He put the mask on and hissed a sticking charm to keep it in place before he leaving his home. The sword of Gryffindor hanging off one hip and a special pouch holding the diadem and the locket off the other.

**o0o**

Harry didn't need to know where Malfoy Manor might really be. He needed only to follow what he knew to be the truth.

 _"The ones we love never leave us,"_ Harry had said to himself once he was outside his wards. Touching a hand to his chest and focusing on the ever present warmth that always seemed to blossom whenever he thought of Tom, he concentrated on the link they shared. On the horcrux within him. He could feel the strange floating feeling that always accompanied the weird phasing trick Tom had taught him. Unsupported Flight the pompous git had called it. Harry had jokingly told him he turned himself into a ghost and phased through walls. It became a familiar, pointless argument between them. Something to poke at whenever the days were going bad and the hours growing harder to bear.

It was easier. And it was undetectable through most wards. They wouldn't know he was there until it was too late to stop him. The fact he knew many of Tom's standard wards and spells was also a tick in his favor... but there was no telling what the Malfoys might have guarding the place.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal speech."  
>  _"Parseltongue."_
> 
> NOTE: Rating change. Went up to Mature because of a mention/implication of a character being raped without explicitly saying that's what it is. Just wanted to be on the safe side with this one. Because it will literally ONLY be mentioned/implied in passing this one time in this one chapter, I've included it in the tags, but will NOT be adding it to the warnings section of the tags because it is NOT a major focus of this story.

Harry touched down outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. He could feel that the wards would not allow him to go any further. That was fine. That was good. It meant Tom was well protected, even from Harry himself.

So he poked at the wards, probing it with his magic just to annoy someone into coming to take a look.

He was slightly amused to see Bellatrix coming down the path. Swaying this way and that with Lucius not far behind her. Harry's lips pulled into a smile, which must have looked quite menacing with his wolf mask. He hoped the voice changing charm he added at the last minute held up well enough.

"I've come to seek audience with the Dark Lord."

"Do you have an appointment?!" Bella snapped.

"I do not. However, items that are part of a very important collection that once belonged to him have come into my possession. I simply wish to return them."

Bella scoffed at him from beyond the gate.

But Lucius... his grey eyes lit up then. "I also," Harry said. "Have come to inform Lord Malfoy that his son has been found and is recovering from severe injuries."

"My son? My son is at Hogwarts-"

"Is he now? Then I wonder how he came to be clear across the country at the edge of my wards covered in so much blood I could not make out the hair nor the face that marks him as a Malfoy until he had been properly washed and his wounds closed."

Harry waited as the two bickered on the other side of the gate behind a silencing charm before he rolled his eyes, hissed at the gates and then stood bewildered that it had actually worked.

Harry stepped inside, trying to hide the shiver as the wards buzzed in the air around him when he passed through. That... was interesting. "I do not have all day and night. Unlike some, I must work to put food on my table and I cannot do that if I am held up here." He pushed a bit of magic into his words, hissing some of them almost, which had quite the effect on Bellatrix. She swayed some where she stood, almost as if caught up in the musical notes of a snake charmer.

Eventually he was led inside and told to wait in the foyer.

Soon Narcissa Malfoy was the one to fetch him. She introduced herself and he knew she was fishing for a name. "Romulus," he said. "Romulus Evans." The surname caught her off guard, as it was meant to. Green eyes glimmered with mirth as she recovered expertly from the unexpected and led him down a corridor. He smiled when he realized she was leading him to the room the Dark Lord used for his meetings.

Her husband, Lord Voldemort, and Peter Pettigrew were the only ones present.

And it was Voldemort who spoke as Pettigrew snivelled and twitched at his side. Lucius masked his anxiety as best as he could yet his hand still rested on the head of his cane, as if ready to whip out his wand to strike at a second's notice. "And who," Voldemort began, his voice dark and menacing, "Would be so foolish as to demand an audience with Lord Voldemort at such an hour as this?"

Narcissa held her head high, despite how uncomfortable she was in the man's presence. "He claims his name is Romulus Evans."

"Have we a sheep in wolf's clothing?" Voldemort said in mild amusement as he commented on the mask and fur lined cloak.

They couldn't see it, but the man in the wolf mask quirked a brow as his lips twitched to fight back a smile. "Thank you, Lady Malfoy," Harry said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it politely. "If you have not yet been told, your son will return the moment he is well enough to travel without risking further injury."

She glanced to her husband who clearly had not yet told her what Harry had told him at the gate. It was just as well.

"Leave us, Narcissa," Lord Voldemort said, almost hissing.

Harry took stock of the man seated on the black throne. The horcrux inside him was excited. Burning hot but not giving him pain. It was far different from the dreadful night in the cemetery. Tom didn't look human, not even vaguely, and Harry knew why by looking at his eyes. His blue, clear, bright eyes. It was a glamour. A disguise. "I see we both are hiding behind masks," he said. "No matter."

"You are either very brave of very foolish to come here, Mr. Evans." Blue eyes flicked to the sword strapped to Harry's hip. "Especially wearing that."

Harry shrugged. "I have a fondness for relics of the Founders. This one in particular has been very useful to me."

"Speaking of... relics... Lucius tells me you have items you wish to return to me?"

"I do. For a price."

"Lord Voldemort does not-"

Harry rolled his eyes and hissed at him. _"Don't you pull that Lord Voldemort bullshit with me, Tom. It didn't work when I was 11, and it won't work now,"_ Harry said. Blue eyes narrowed at him as Harry slowly reached for his pouch. _"I'm sorry about Nagini. But I'm glad to know that tipping you off about the ring was not in vain."_ He pulled out first the box with the diadem inside, offering it to Pettigrew as he ignored the subtle shifts in expression the snake-like man experienced upon realizing who was standing before him. When Pettigrew cottoned on to what was being requested of him, he snatched it from Harry's hand and took it to his master. The box was opened, and there... There the Dark Lord beheld something he believed lost to him. Knowing he could never get into the castle to retrieve it.

 _"You found this?"_ Voldemort hissed at him.

Harry nodded. _"I have here another for you,"_ he said, digging in his pouch and removing the golden, glittering locket of Salazar Slytherin.

He held this up by the chain in the light and admired it before taking the locket in hand and stroking the S of emeralds longingly. With great regret, he held this out in offering for Lucius to take. His hesitancy in the act was not lost on Voldemort.

"There are two more," Harry said in English. "One thought lost to you due to Lucius Malfoy's foolishness. And another that was never meant to be."

"Then why not bring them here to me?"

"Because one is insurance for the other. I saw what happened to Nagini," he said, hissing the counter to the sticking charm. He removed the mask slowly, lowering it away from his face. "And until we learn of a way to remove it without killing me, I will keep it hidden away. If I die, the secret of its location goes with me."

Admittedly, Harry had only wanted to conceal his identity long enough for a dramatic reveal. While Tom had already figured it out by now, Pettigrew and Malfoy had not. Their look of horror, followed by shock from the one and anger from the other almost made up for the lack of a reaction from Voldemort. Oh, there was one. Harry looked at him and saw a familiar rage burning in those blue eyes. A rage that hadn't been directed at him, at least from his perspective, for a century. And while it hurt to see it there, he understood. "Harry Potter..." Voldemort drawled. "Everyone believes you to be kidnapped by my Death Eaters."

Harry smirked, and it served to irritate Voldemort even further. He put the mask back on, hissing the sticking charm again. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I don't trust Draco Malfoy alone in my house for too long. Even injured, he's a nosy prat who won't keep his pointy nose out my business."

Even as Voldemort rose, drawing his wand alongside Lucius, Harry gave a cheeky little wave and was gone with nary a sound as he became the black, misty smoke that only Lord Voldemort had perfected and taught his inner circle.

**o0o**

Harry touched down in a quiet nook of Knocturn Alley with a sigh. His mask was removed and tucked away into his pouch before he stepped out. His hood was up, covering his forehead as he stalked through like he owned the place. There was a stop he had to make to be certain of a small, otherwise insignificant theory Tom had broached but they'd never really looked into in-depth. And it all depended on a certain item in a dark, dank little shop called Borgin and Burke's.

Harry stepped into the shop, looking around with a twisted sort of fondness. A hundred years from now this place was razed to the ground along with everything else on the Alley. Diagon stood tall and bright though... But the place where those who didn't follow the Lord of the Light gathered? Any place that offered even the appearance of resistance? Destroyed. Crushed under the oppressive heel of the Supreme Mugwump and his order of flaming chickens.

It hadn't changed at all since he was 12. And for that, he was glad. When he finally made his way to the counter, he reached out a scarred hand, reading the words cut into his flesh months ago in a stark reminder of the disaster of his previous life. He rang the bell and waited.

When Mr. Borgin appeared from the dusty depths of the back room, Harry's lips became a cruel, but amused, smile. "I'm here looking for a very specific item. I understand you have one of a pair of special cabinets. I'd like to have a look at it for my collection. And money is no object."

**o0o**

The vanishing cabinet was bought and destroyed.

The fact that it existed did not bode well, and was one more piece to the puzzle of the dream world. A puzzle he found himself working on frequently as he searched for an explanation. Tom had once proposed that the link between them was weakened when he was captured. Dampened in some way, but never quite broken. Some events... some instances had still bled through and manifested in Harry's dream prison.

They had believed Harry's subconsciousness was trying to make sense of the information he was receiving from Tom's end of the link. The botched rescue of Harry became the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Tom's assault on Hogwarts, a battle to try and free the wizards from Dumbledore's violent and insane rule translated to Harry's prison as Harry trying to overthrow Voldemort and take back the castle. Harry's horcrux hunt was Tom and his allies going underground as he worked to piece himself back together with what few horcruxes were left.

It wasn't exactly a solid theory, but it was all Harry had to go on. Evidence so far seemed to be pointing in that direction though. The fact the other vanishing cabinet was found exactly where he had first seen it in the dream world could mean either he got the information from Tom through the link or it was something Dumbledore had fed to him. Either way, neither side could use it now that he had destroyed the damn thing.

**o0o**

He had not returned to Malfoy Manor since his initial visit in February. It was now March and he had not had any more visions of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

That didn't mean the link wasn't still there. In fact, he kept it wide open on his end. He had no reason to keep it closed. No reason to hide from the man. Hell, his wards were blood wards keyed specifically to himself... Which meant anyone with his blood could get through. Blood that Tom had running through his own veins thanks to the ritual that had given him a body again.

"Winky is sorry for bothering Master Hardwin while he's is working but your guest is wanting to be seeing you before he leaves."

Harry frowned as he looked up from the parchments scattered across his table. "Yes, of course." He made to tidy them up, but Winky slapped his hand. Any other master would have punished her for taking such a liberty. But Harry allowed it. For the sole reason that he knew she did it because she felt comfortable with him and thought him a good owner. She doted and mothered him, in her own way. It was easy for him to tell that she did so not out of a sense of duty or gratitude, but genuine care and concern. Something that he could now discern from the overbearing and damn near controlling way Mrs. Weasley had cared for him and, well, anyone. He never doubted that before the shift in his reality that she cared about him. Loved him as one of her own even. But she was just... too much for him. Too much and all at once. Winky, however, guided him the more she grew comfortable with him. She watched him and paid attention to things he liked or disliked. And she helped him learn when he admitted fault and gaps in his knowledge of wizarding customs, dress, and etiquette.

 _"Alright... alright,"_ he said when she slapped his hand a second time, a little more firmly than the first as he had reached to stuff his papers into a large book he'd had open. _"I can take a hint."_

She smiled smugly at him when he pushed back from the table and stood as he ran a hand through his mop top. _"I think I might need a haircut soon."_

"A trim," Winky said as she tidied up.

_"Oh alright. A trim. But it's not staying even a centimetre longer than my ears, you hear me. I'll not have it always in my eyes when I'm fighting."_

Winky hummed as Harry left the room.

The stone cottage was small by wizard's standards. But for Harry it was a palace. Five rooms total, though three of them were very small. And two of them were originally one large room. The kitchen was tiny and had been sectioned off from the main room where Harry had his small dwarven crafted dining table and four chairs. One for each side, though two were stacked upon one another and sitting in a corner out of the way. Shelves carved into the stones lined nearly every wall of this room, and were laden with books, trinkets, and photographs that had been collected from vaults, albums, and even some that had been rescued from the Potter's Cottage in Godric's Hollow after the Dwarves had finished filing away all the paperwork he'd had to sign to get it back from Gringotts and the Ministry.

His bedroom was larger than the one he'd had at Privet Drive, but still considered small by most wizard standards. It was large enough for a full sized bed, had more shelves carved into the stone, a window, a writing desk with chair tucked in a corner, and a small night stand beside the bed. Normally it was cluttered with books and photographs. But those had been cleared away in favour of potion bottles and non-magical books Winky had gotten for Draco to read.

Books that Harry noticed as he walked into his bedroom were packed away in the small muggle suitcase Winky had also bought for him.

"My elf said you wanted to talk before you went home."

"I don't want to go home."

"Hogwarts then."

"I don't want to go there, either."

Harry scratched at his chin in thought. "And what do you want me to do? You can't stay here with me forever."

"Not that I would want to," Draco replied waspishly, wrinkling his nose as he looked around the small room. "But I can't go back."

"Why not?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead he simply glared at him. Harry threw up his hands and growled in frustration before turning to leave the room.

"Potter wait!"

Harry turned back and hissed at him, causing Draco to flinch under his hard stare and the sound of his Parsel. And that... that caused Harry to stop and really look at him. "Malfoy... I've been patient. I've been more than kind in letting you stay here to heal. I've not asked questions despite the... nature of some of your injuries. But if ever there was a time for you to be honest, this it. I won't make you take Veritaserum, but I demand the truth."

Draco looked away, but he did reach back behind him for the bed. Once he felt the soft, silky furs under his fingers he sat down and drew in a shaky breath. "Why did you leave Hogwarts, Potter?"

"It wasn't safe for me anymore. Between Umbrage, Snape, the headmaster and the war coming..."

"So you just tucked your tail and ran?!"

"Run away to live and fight another day," Harry said with a shrug. "That and I... came to learn some things that I was not happy with. Decided to break my chains and free myself before it was too late."

Draco stroked the furs with a frown. "Weasel and Granger latched onto Longbottom when the term started."

"I thought they would. I wish his grandmother had taken my advice and pulled him from Hogwarts. Taken him out of the country."

"You did a lot of letter writing before you left... Blaise said his mother got a letter from you."

He nodded. "The Greengrass sisters said much the same I suspect."

"Parkinson, too."

"And you're stalling. Enough about me, Malfoy. Who hurt you, why did they hurt you, and how did you come to be dumped like a used bit of tissue outside my wards?"

Draco wouldn't answer. His jaw muscles tensed.

Harry's gaze narrowed. The tenseness wasn't lost on him. In fact, it reminded him very much of himself when, in the dream world, everyone seemed to be concerned about his and Ginny's love life. Or lack thereof... "Alright... Let's skip over the first two and come to the last one. Why were you brought here, to me, and by who? No one, and I mean NO ONE knows where I am except two house elves and a handful of dwarves."

"An elf."

"Well it certainly wasn't mine. Had to have been my godfather's. I warned him about coming back here." Harry sighed. "Your mother was a Black. Of course the damned thing would keep tabs on her, and you. Damn thing probably brought you to me because this is the safest place it knows of where neither side can get to you." Harry waved towards his chair at the desk, and it slid across the stone floor towards him. When it was near enough he grasped it and sat down. "So, the Black Family elf somehow knew you were in danger and came to help you. Why were you in danger, Malfoy?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't. I hate that everyone always assumes I know what the hell is going on when really, nobody tells me a damn thing. Now, WHY were you attacked, Malfoy?"

"Because my father's a Death Eater."

"The kind of injuries you've got aren't the kind the headmaster's side of things tend to do. I've seen first hand the kind of people he has fight for him."

"Then you don't know Ginny Weasley as well as you think you do."

Harry hissed angrily, then repeated himself in English. "What?"

Draco didn't repeat it. But he did flinch when Harry's magic got a little too... intense and cracked the glass in the window.

"What did she... Potions? Compulsions?"

"Imperius. While Corner and Thomas, also under the imperius, held me down. Is that enough for you, Potter?! Does my humiliation amuse you?!"

 _"Not at all,"_ Harry hissed, not caring as the boy flinched again upon hearing the snake-tongue. _"Winky!"_ he called. When she appeared at his side, he was nearly snarling his hisses. _"Parchment and blood quill. Quickly!"_

Winky did as she was told and soon, Harry was wincing as he wrote out a short note on the parchment in Parsel. The blood was taken from his forearm, and since he wasn't writing anything too long or too detailed, the wounds healed over with little fanfare. Though he would have some mild bruising for a day or two after.

Draco watched him as he wrote, scrawling what looked to him to be nonsensical squiggles. He handed the parchment to his elf and spoke to her in the snake-tongue again.

Unknown to Draco, Harry had just ordered her to secure the ink stain in another protected location before leaving with Draco for Malfoy Manor immediately. And the note... well... she could see what it was and would know whom it was for.

Once alone in his home Harry tidied his bedroom. Hissing cleaning charms here and there to rid himself of all trace that Draco had ever been.

**o0o**

Harry did not spend all his time alone and brooding. No. Free of Dumbledore's influence and with a few tricks to keep his identity secret, Harry spent April and May travelling Europe looking for answers. He chased leads in his research on the Horcruxes that in the future he and Tom had been unable to follow. Not for lack of trying, but for lack of resources. Lack of information. There was no one left who knew the magic that Dumbledore had purged from the world.

While what he was able to track down was sparse, his trip was not fruitless. He learned the things that Tom would not tell him about how he took the pieces back into himself. He learned more in those two months than he ever did at Hogwarts as a student. In the caves of Greece he learned powerful enchantments and sigils that were said to have been given to man from the gods themselves. In the dark forests of Germany he learned to shift his skin in favour of fur and stalked the wood, a hulking monster who's presence forced a pack of werewolves to cower before him, a hell-beast that sometimes took shape as man.

That was what took him the longest, and a part of him did not want to leave the forest and the creatures he had come to know among the trees. Creatures that sometimes took the shape of man. But his quest would not end there. Could not end there.

From Germany, Harry went onward to Belgium where he learned of a protection spell most strange and wondrous.

A ring of fire protection the old woman had once said was cast by Gellert Grindlewald himself at the height of his power. A test of loyalty to his followers. To weed out the faithless. "Only the strongest of wizards can control the flames," she'd said, "Lest he be consumed by them as one would the Fiendfyre of old."

It took days and days of desperate attempts while hanging from his feet over a pool of black goo that seemed to want to devour him whole for Harry to finally produce the flames of the Protego Diobolica. And when he had, the pool was set afire and the goo burned away before he was able to set himself free.

In Portugal he learned quite a lot about herbology and the power of semi-sentient plants... and how to charm them and beguile them into obedience through the use of enchanting music. It was also in Portugal he was gifted a length of dogwood in return for breaking a curse on the mayor of some backwater magical town.

In early June he felt a pull in his heart to return home to the UK. Back to his isolated little corner of the world. But first...

Harry couldn't help himself. He needed to go there, at least once.

Winky had told him there were two places in all the world where he would be absolutely hidden. Absolutely protected and safe from all his enemies. The first she had said, in her own way, was uninhabitable. The other... The other one, in Stinchcombe, had been made into quite a cosy little home for the two of them.

Appearing for all the world as just another average muggle man, his scar carefully concealed beneath a bit of muggle make-up, Harry strolled through Godric's Hollow.

It was so strange to see what it really looked like in this time. The last time he had been, there was a small smattering of buildings and the cemetery. He stopped outside the gate, leaning against it and looking inward towards where he knew his parents lay. He wondered briefly who, after their deaths, learned their best kept secrets. Had there been an autopsy done? Likely not considering they were wizards. Dumbledore, he figured, had to have known. If not before their deaths then certainly after. Harry did not linger here. He had something else in mind. With hands in his pockets, he strolled the streets of Godric's Hollow, thankful not for the first time that he'd ditched the glasses and aged up a bit. The beard he'd developed over the last few months was a plus, as it made him look less like a Potter and more like... well... he really didn't have any photos of family to compare it to. Certainly when he looked in the mirror and compared himself to the muggle pictures of his parents, the top half of his face looked more like Lily than anyone bothered to admit. Especially with those eyes. The hair color was all wrong, of course. But the less he looked like Harry Potter, or even James Potter, the better.

Harry came to a stop outside the old Potter House. To the muggles it still looked like an empty plot. But to the magicals... It was a symbol. A symbol of hope and the end of an era of fear. The birthplace of a legend. His legend. And supported by lie after lie. He didn't need a building to remind him of what happened. He didn't need a place to physically go to in order to be with his parents. They were with him, always. Nestled safely in his heart next to the man he loved. Next to the godfather he could never have and the innocent, naive child he had once been. They never left him, because he kept them in his memory. Kept them alive in his thoughts and the warmth of his heart.

 _"Winky,"_ he hissed quietly. The elf did not appear, but he could feel her presence with him. _"Have all the personal effects of my parents and myself been remove from this place?"_

"Yes," came the quiet reply.

_"Good."_

Harry bent down to the ground outside the gate between the hedges that lined the outside of the lot. He found a stick, tested it's bendiness, and nodded. It would do for the single task he needed it for. He held it up and with one hand disillusioned himself. With the other, he gripped the stick tightly and hissed the incantation as he pushed his magic through the thing. With a mighty roar the magic was unleashed and the inferno of fiendfyre consumed the cottage in its beastly flames. He threw the stick into the fire and walked away to watch from a safe distance.

It took longer than he expected for aurors to show. Perhaps since the Ministry no longer had ready access to the historical site, they didn't care as much what happened to it. Feeling a bit mischievous, Harry couldn't help himself and cast his patronus, aiming towards the burning house as he heard more pops nearby. A smile played on his lips as his hell-hound of a patronus pounced and played amidst the fiendfyre.

Was it disrespectful? Certainly. Did he care? No. It was his house to do with what he wished. He wasn't actually committing a crime, even though it looked like someone had. He didn't have insurance on the property. His elf had cleared anything of value – monetary or sentimental – out of the building. There was no law in the wizarding world against burning down your own house if you chose to do so. And to the muggles, it was just an empty lot nobody looked at or even cared about.

His smile faded when he felt a gaze on him, and chanced a look in the direction he sensed it from. A craggy old auror was watching him, a magical eye no longer spinning crazily but trained solely on him. The corner of his lips twitched as he hissed. The patronus shot into the sky above the burning plot of land. And as Harry spun on his heel to apparate away with a great crack of thunder, the patronus changed into a bolt of lightning, striking the ground in front of the aurors trying to put out the magical flames.

**o0o**

The Daily Prophet, of course, called it arson.

A craggy old auror had reported seeing a suspicious wizard at the scene who, when he fled, so did that odd patronus that was jumping around in the fire like it was some kind of children's playground.

And in a rather dreary and austere manor house in Wales, a Dark Lord set the newspaper aside. His very human lips pulled into a frown as a hand brushed a few stray black locks out of his sharp, blue eyes. "What game are you playing at, Potter..." he hissed, his gaze turning to the box on the mantle where he kept the broken relics that had once been his horcruxes. The founders items he had, in his quest for power, ruined beyond rescue or repair.

Tucked beside it was a letter, written in blood and parselscript, that once read had been set aside.

A brief note about what had happened to the Malfoy boy, as well as an offer to exchange information. One he had considered only briefly before other matters called for his attention now that his sanity had been restored to him. Now that he no longer depended on Severus's potions to help him clear his thoughts enough to be rational. Now that he was, mostly. human again.

Nothing about Potter made sense anymore. When Draco had been dropped off just outside the gates of the manor in mid March, he told of a man so very much unlike the boy he had known for the last 4 years. The Malfoy child had described the Potter who helped him recover as distant. He wasn't entirely unflappable, but he hardly showed any outward care of the insults Draco had thrown his way. Instead Potter would shrug, smile, or tell Draco to stop being a prat and eat his food or take his potions.

Except... Except that final day after Potter had learned the nature of Draco's predicament. Voldemort had seen that memory. Had insisted that Lucius copy it for him to examine in private later. The fury he saw in the man Potter had become for just those few moments... the burning rage that was barely contained as he ordered his elf to bring him writing instruments. Gave her an order to "Secure the stone" before she was to leave with the letter and the Malfoy heir. That was the Potter he knew. That was the boy who had stood against him in the cemetery. Filled with such blind, raw anger at the man who had ruined his life. The man who had one of his friends killed in front of him just moments before.

There was a knock at the door, and he tore his gaze from the letter and the box on the mantle of his guest suite. "Enter," he called out.

The door opened a fraction and a familiar, slightly bucktoothed face peered in. "Master, Severus has come with news."

"Then show him in Peter."

The door closed quickly, and Voldemort looked towards the newspaper. The cottage belonging to a young couple who only sought to escape the war and raise their son in peace... burning to the ground. He could make out the ferocious faces of the fiendfyre beasts as they consumed the historic site and their flames reached towards the night sky.

There was a cough from nearby. He turned his head, looking at the dour man in robes that made him look like a large bat and he smiled. "Severus," he said. "Join me. Please."

The potion master scowled before glancing at the seat that was indicated. After a long moment he nodded and sat, adjusting his robes as he did so. "My Lord-"

"Call me Thomas."

"I-"

"After everything you have done for me since my return, you have earned that right, Severus. I consider you a friend, and as such I would prefer you address me as such."

"It will take... time," Severus said. "To adjust."

"That is all I ask. Now, what news do you bring me? If it's about the fire in Godric's Hollow, I'm afraid the Daily Prophet has beaten you to it."

Severus glanced at the newspaper that Voldemort tapped with his finger as he spoke. "There is that," he said. "But... There is talk in the headmaster's inner circle about the Prophecy."

"That damned prophecy," Voldemort snipes with a scowl. "I curse the day you brought me that bit of news."

"Yes, well... The headmaster has decided that you were mistaken in your choice that night."

Voldemort's scowl deepened as he sat up straighter in his chair.

"Do continue, Severus."

"He has convinced Madame Longbottom that he has known since the beginning that the prophecy meant her grandson, Neville Longbottom. I of course pointed out the boy couldn't possibly be the chosen one because he's an incompetent fool. Not that I believed it to be the Potter boy either but between the two of them it's quite clear which one is the more powerful wizard."

"And others agree with his sudden change of direction?"

"They don't have a choice. Black and the werewolf of course are making quite a noise about it, but not as much of a noise as I had come to expect from them. Lupin seems more subdued since Potter's disappearance from Hogwarts. Black claims to have seen him, but no one believes him."

And so Snape continued with his report. Voldemort only half listened to him, knowing he could recall the meeting for a pensieve later and go over anything he might have missed. No, he was still stuck on the fact that Albus Dumbledore seemed to have given up on Harry Potter and moved on to another toy to play with. Another unsuspecting child for his sick pursuit of power and glory.

No, there was no mistake in his interpretation of the scant piece of prophecy Severus had brought to him 16 years ago. Potter was the one. The other boy... the other boy, from what he knew, was considered barely a wizard. Just enough magic in him to not be a squib.

"What if I told you," Voldemort interrupted what he was sure was quite a mini-rant about having to deal with so many stupid people in a small room at the same time. "That before Lucius's son was returned to us safely, that Potter had brought me the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the lost diadem of Ravenclaw?"

"Potter?!"

Voldemort nodded.

"Impossible. Lucius told me it was a relic hunter from the continent. Romulus something."

Voldemort smiled, and though Severus recognized that he was a changed man from the monster he had once been, it was still a cruel thing to behold. "He did not come here as himself. The boy has enough sense for that. Enough sense to hide himself not only from me, but also from the most powerful Light wizard for two centuries." He tapped at the newspaper again. "The fire in Godric's Hollow last night was Potter sending a very clear message. One that I do not think was meant for us."

"No. No, I don't believe it!" Snape replied in disbelief. "That was Fiendfyre, My-" After getting a sharp look, he corrected himself quickly. "Thomas. Potter is... perhaps, slightly above average in magical power for his age but even I would have difficulty controlling that particular spell."

"Believe it or not, Severus-"

"Couple that with the fact that aurors reported seeing a large wolfhound patronus frolicking among the flames. Even if it WERE Potter, it's a well documented fact his patronus is a stag."

"A patronus can change, Severus. Did you forget what I just told you? That it was Potter who brought me those last two items that helped to heal my broken soul?" Voldemort raised a brow, almost as if to challenge the man to call him a liar. "He came here to us under another name before revealing his identity first to me, and then to Lucius and Peter. The name he used was indeed Romulus." At this, he paused, waiting for Severus to think about what he'd just said, and then just so he could see the look on the man's face he said, "Romulus Evans."

Dark eyes widened very briefly in disbelief before quickly his reaction was masked again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal speech."  
>  _"Parseltongue."_

The burning of Potter's Cottage in Godric's Hollow was indeed a message.

A message heard all around Magical Britain.

One that many did not seem to understand.

The Ministry, via the Prophet, labelled it vandalism of an important historical site in the wake of Harry Potter's kidnapping and disappearance.

Many of the Death Eaters took it as an omen of success for them and their lord. And so many of them set out to celebrate by doing what they do best.... murder and mayhem....

Much to their Lord's actual dismay.

Because Lord Voldemort was a cruel, heartless blood supremacist who killed for killing's sake. He wished to enslave the mudbloods for the filth they were and kill the muggles as if they were a mere rodent infestation.

But Thomas Riddle didn't particularly enjoy killing. And as each Horcrux was reabsorbed, and his soul patched back together, more and more be became sick with the man he had become. Power for power's sake was never what he wanted. Power to make a change for the common good of man was what Tom had always sought out.

And this is where the largest problem presented itself.

In his madness Lord Voldemort's vision was twisted and corrupted – not having much of a soul will do that to a man – and the true purpose of his cause was lost. The Knights were revolutionaries. Most of them children of powerful pureblood houses who saw the writing on the wall. That the old ways of their world were failing and it was up to them to change things. To use their status in society as purebloods to work towards an open and free world. To first unify and then modernize the wizarding world, starting with Britain and then who knows where the revolution would take them. Voldemort, however...

Voldemort sought to unify them under himself. Sought to preserve the old ways of the wizarding world that had allowed him to rise to such prominence. In his misguided attempt to do so he had believed culling the muggleborn was a good idea. Killing their families to prevent the dilution of magical blood. And as each part of his soul was stripped away, his methods became more and more violent. More dramatic and showcasing his power rather than changing their world.

And now, just as he was getting himself straightened back out and plotting revenge against the one who had gotten into his young mind and twisted it and broken it...

Potter had gone rogue. He broke free of the control that even at his most insane Tom Riddle had seen so plainly in the child when they'd first fought. Potter, in one night and through one singular act, had declared open war against the man who had presumed himself the young man's master.

**o0o**

Harry Potter had no plans for June 18th.

He woke up, read the paper, caught up on his mail, visited the bank after getting dressed, and went about his day as he normally did.

A run through the forest at the northern end of his property as his hulking wolf form, Romulus, for a good chunk of the late morning. Then he a late lunch in Knockturn as he waited for the appointment with the wandmaker he'd sought out after his return to England. The dogwood from Portugal paired with the retinas and optic nerves of the basilisk was a challenge the woman claimed would be foolish to turn down. Especially because the dangerous nature of the basilisk parts involved in the process. She hoped not to accidentally kill herself or turn herself to stone as she had worked on such a strange wand.

He had not planned, however, to be stricken with the mother of all migraines as he browsed through a collection of rare magical texts in what was a surprisingly quaint and odd little store called Darlot's Dungeon. Harry nearly doubled over with pain slicing through his head. The world was swimming and he wanted to vomit right there on his boots as he grasped at the wall for support.

His vision filled with a nightmarish sight. Hermione and Ron, tied up and screaming as Death Eaters tortured them in a very familiar and very unsettling room in the Department of Mysteries. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, he heard Neville's voice, laced with fear but trying to sound so brave. A flash of green. A sibilant, soft and mocking voice that Harry knew couldn't be there. He knew because he had seen through Tom's eyes. Through the horcruxes. And he was not that man any longer.

When the nightmare scene passed and the pressure in his head eased, he was angry. Beyond angry; Harry was furious. And the monstrous hound within him wanted to run. Wanted to go to Hogwarts and start ripping and tearing until there was nothing left but bits of bone and clumps of hair.

But he tamped it down and gathered his wits.

Quickly, Harry paid for the few items he had chosen and stalked down the Alley towards the wandmaker. He had somewhere to be tonight.

**o0o**

It was a trap. He knew it was a trap.

He knew because Severus had told him it was a trap.

But he didn't know for whom the trap would spring.

Was it to expose the Dark Lord to the public?

Or was it to lure the rebellious teen hero back home where he belonged?

What he did know was that tonight was the night that once and for all, the riddle of the Prophecy would be answered. Dumbledore kept it protected. Tom needed to hear the rest of it. And Potter would be lured from his bolthole and be forced to come and claim it for himself, if only to keep it out of the Dark Lord's grasp.

At least, that was the way Severus had understood Dumbledore's plan.

**o0o**

Harry knew how this was supposed to play out.

He was meant to be at Hogwarts. He was meant to have spent more time with Sirius under the watchful eyes of the portraits so that they could report back what was said and how close Harry and Sirius should have become.

But Harry had deliberately distanced himself from Sirius. It was a decision that broke his heart, but one he felt was necessary. To avoid this very night and let him live just a little bit longer.

It seemed that by choosing to make his own destiny... destiny decided to try and get things back on track.

So here he was, his new dogwood wand lit at the tip with a lumos. Hiding behind glamours to make himself appear far weaker, far younger than he was. Though he knew if Moody were anywhere near... or possibly Dumbledore himself...

He found the place in the vision where his old friends were supposed to have been held. Where Neville was supposed to have been killed. Harry played his part well. He looked around, jumpy and jittery as he moved cautiously towards the shelf with the prophecy on it. The prophecy that... he couldn't be certain was true or not. He'd been told it after the battle. After everyone had made it back safe to the school.

Only he knew now that never happened.

He stopped at the familiar aisle and looked up, then cast the light on other side of him. He knew... He knew the moment he touched that orb... something would happen. Would it be Tom's men? Or would it be the Order swarming him?

He should have known something was up last time. The damn thing had been guarded day and night – not just outside the door, but in the department itself, too. And yet this particular night the Order couldn't spare anyone? Even though everyone came to their aid?

Remus and Sirius clearly hadn't known what was going to go down. And Kreature's motivation at the time had simply been madness and hatred for his master. Things that Harry could no longer fault him now that he knew about the locket. Now that he knew about what had happened to Regulus.

Drawing a deep breath, Harry exhaled slowly and turned his attention back to the orb on the shelf. The initials were the same as they had been before. The same as they had been in the nightmares within the dream that was to follow. The same as it had been when he had dreamed the same dream laying next to Tom night after night for months.

The moment his hand wrapped around the orb to remove it, he felt his glamour fall and saw flashes of red light from the corner of his eye.

The weak, exhausted looking Harry Potter melted away as the man in the basilisk jerkin and silver wolf mask deflected the stunners that had been cast his way.

He shot two of his own, satisfied by the thuds he heard before phasing to avoid a jet of yellow.

"The Weapon!" he heard a young voice cry out as he turned and twisted, passing through a few more shelves before touching down the floor again long enough to place the orb into the pouch on his hip.

A jet of red came too close for comfort as it sailed right past his head and there was another thud. "Neville!" a voice – Hermione – had called out in the dark. Harry didn't even glance her way, too focused on the shock of platinum hair peeking out from the black robe in front of him. "Don't kill the children, Malfoy."

"I don't intend to," the masked man said, then added as an afterthought, "Romulus."

Harry smiled. "I've got what I came for."

"Then help me stop Bella from turning a petty theft into a murder scene."

Harry shielded a spell that was thrown too wide. "Are you trying to recruit me?"

"The enemy of my enemy is only a temporary friend. No one need die this night."

Harry frowned. He couldn't agree more. "Alright. Just for tonight. Get the kids isolated somewhere and away from Bellatrix. This isn't their fight," he said, turning towards the sounds of fighting.

"And where are you going?!"

"You wanted my help with Bella!" Harry called over his shoulder, his next step never touching the ground as he shifted into the dark misty smoke that the death eaters were known for.

**o0o**

They once more ended up in the death chamber.

The kids had gotten away from Lucius, Crabbe, and Rabastan LeStrange.

As Harry did his best to deflect Bella's deadlier spells away from the kids, he didn't bother to stop the Order's spells from striking true against the Death Eaters. At least... the ones he knew to be the more violent ones.

And yet... here they were... Nearly every Death Eater with a wand to a kid's neck. A few Order members Harry wasn't really familiar with waiting for backup.

Lucius and Harry stood on opposite sides of the Veil, each with a wand trained on someone. Harry with his wand on Bellatrix, who had her wand jabbed under the chin of Neville. Lucius with his wand pulled on the Order members who were trying, and failing, to free the kids nearest to them.

With a crack of thunder they came, dropping into the chamber like the cavalry they thought they were.

And there, on the other side of the Death Chamber he could see them. Remus and Sirius.

Why... Why were they there? Why couldn't they have stayed at Grimmauld Place!

Harry didn't have time to think as the Order began slinging spells left and right, freeing the kids who immediately turned their wands on the enemy.

It was absolute chaos as Lucius and Harry attempted to protect the kids as well as control Bellatrix AND defend themselves.

Harry was caught by surprise and thrown back against a pillar. As Moody came in hot on his trail. Harry threw up a parsel shield as quickly as he could, catching the man part-way through it.

"You!" Moody shouted in his face, the magical eye never leaving the mask it could see through. "You were the one that burned the Potter house!"

"You framed the Death Eaters for Dursleys' murders! You and that damned Order!" he snarled back, a bit of the wolf in his voice as he pushed his magic into the shield to force the auror back. Moody was thrown as Harry phased through the pillar, then shot upwards. Spells came flying at him left and right as he twisted and turned and dodged them as best as he could.

He took potshots when it looked like one of the students was about to get hit. Or Remus.

Bella was about to cast what looked like a rather nasty hex when he found Sirius at the bottom of the platform that held the veil. But it was still too close for Harry's comfort.

He touched down behind her, whipping out the dogwood wand. As he cast a bludgeon hex at her back, he could have sworn it had actually yipped in joy as Sirius cast one of his own. Bella was passed back and forth between them like a ping-pong ball for a moment before she was able to finally bring her wand up for a shield and get her bearings.

Soon after this, she began casting viciously. More and more dangerous, violent spells that forced the both of them to shield from her. Harry had rounded her, taking his place at Sirius's side.

Sirius was about to hex, him, too, until he heard the voice call him something nobody else did. Nobody else would. "Keep your guard up, Snuffles."

"Harry..."

A subtle nod and they were side by side, alternating who defended and who attacked. They worked in tandem, falling into a good rhythm but she was strong. Too strong for them to keep it up and they were forced to retreat.

It was too late when Harry realized how far they'd been pushed. Where they'd been pushed back to.

It happened so quickly, so violently that Harry was still in shock as Sirius looked at him, his body pulled by the invisible hands of the veil. "I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" he heard ringing in his ears for the second time in his life as the fighting stopped around him.

His mask cracked, splitting down the middle with the sheer force from Harry's roar of anger, the sticking charm shattering as the roar became a mournful howl. Bellatrix ran. There was no Remus to hold him back this time as Harry gave chase, his mask falling away as he transformed, following her mocking laughter through the halls of the Ministry of Magic.

He caught up with her in the atrium, grabbing her by the arm in his jaws and slinging her as hard as he could towards the unity statue. He smelled blood. He tasted it on his tongue as he snarled, the bones of her arm crunching in his jaws as she screamed and scrambled, one armed, trying to get out of the water.

Harry spat out the bones, blood matting his fur, then his face and his hair and his clothes as he changed back into a man with his wand raised.

"Potter is your bark as bad as your bite?!" she taunted as if he hadn't just ripped her arm off with his teeth.

 _"Crucio!"_ he hissed in parsel, causing the woman's body to spasm, her mouth open in a half-moan/half-scream as he tortured her.

Caught up in his fury as he was, he missed when Dumbledore had appeared and wasn't able to defend against the disarming spell that came his way. Not that it mattered... much.

Bella's cries stopped as Harry was disarmed. He turned, throwing up wandless shield. In his moment of distraction she managed to drag herself away to the floos.

Harry hoped she died of blood loss before she ever got where she was going.

"Harry... How far you have fallen in such a short time..."

Harry's blood covered lips furled as he snarled. His rage, his pain and his anger existing in a place beyond words. Beyond the ability to express them save for as a primal hatred for the man before him.

"You have lost your way, Harry. Come back to us. We can help you return to the Light."

Harry was about to launch into another attack until he tasted the familiar tang in the air of a specific spell. Charging up with the intention before it was unleashed. Quickly Dumbledore brought up a physical barrier as the killing curse shot towards him. Harry wanted that wand back. As he drew the dagger at his hip, he decided he'd cut the man's hand off himself if he had to for it.

Lord Voldemort stepped out of the shadows. Pale, bald, and cold. His eyes red and reptilian. "What's the matter old man?" the soft, sibilant voice taunted, distracting the old headmaster for Harry. "Lose control of your precious weapon before the war has even truly begun?"

"There is still hope for Harry, Tom. He's not like you."

And that's when Harry struck. Dagger out, dull but still sharp enough if he put some force behind it, and leapt to action.

With a feral growl he jumped forward, but had underestimated the old man's agility. He overshot, then skid across the floor, pivoting just in time to block the spells that came his way with a wandless shield. Like with Sirius and Bella, Harry and Voldemort caught the old man in a pincer attack. Each man going after him from two sides – forcing him to split his focus between them and giving him no time to coordinate an offensive.

Harry tried for his wand again, and was thrown back by a powerful wind spell. Fire flew from the tip of Voldemort's wand, taking advantage of the wind charm and feeding off it until a large fire whirl had been created. Harry regained consciousness when he was hit with water from Dumbledore's counter by drawing on the water of the fountain to shower the flames. Harry pulled himself up to his feet, staggering forward before regaining his bearings. The fire was sputtering. There was too much steam in the air. Too much water bearing down on the Dark Lord and threatening to put out his mystical fire.

Harry knew what he had to do. And he had to do it fast. _"Riddle! Get off the floor!"_ he cried in Parsel, reaching for his dagger but finding it too far. An accio would never get to his hand in time. Harry flexed his fingers and the moment that Voldemort's feet left the ground, Harry reached up above his head, closing his hand into a fist and gave a howling cry so ferocious it was alien even to his own ears. "FULMINUM!" And down his arm came as if he were slashing the very air, executing the same movement he normally did with his dagger or a wand. Lightning strikes were summoned from the ether as he slashed down again and again, electrifying the water as Voldemort made sure to keep his feet away from anything damp. Harry's righteous fury struck down again and again, punctuated only by Dumbledore's attempts to redirect the lightning.

The flood stopped, but pools and pockets of water continued to crackle and sizzle with the raw force of the element Harry had called down on his enemy. He didn't notice the Order or the aurors that had come to intervene only to be held back by wards Dumbledore no doubt had put into place and allowed to be triggered once all three of them were together.

"HE'S BACK!" exclaimed a voice and Harry took that as his cue, holding out his hand and casting the disarming spell in Parsel to relieve the man of Harry's replacement wand. He was surprised, though, when he caught two wands instead of the one.

And apparently.... so was Dumbledore.

Voldemort made a hasty retreat as Minister Fudge kept exclaiming loudly and stupidly "He's back! He's back! Oh Merlin it's true! You-Know-Who is back!"

Harry started to leave, uncaring for the false concern of the words Dumbledore shouted at his back. Though his name, Harry noted when he thought on the night's events later, was never uttered in the presence of those who worked in the government.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal speech."  
>  _"Parseltongue."_  
>  " **Reading out loud to others.** "  
> " **Mischief Managed.**"

It took days for Harry to recover from the battle at the ministry. He had expended far more of his magic than he was used to in far too short a span of time.

Sirius's second death weighed heavy on his heart, and this time... This time he knew the world was real. Because the loss felt so much more raw than it had before. His world was in sharp focus and the pain in his soul that much more visceral.

Winky mothered him, refusing to allow him out of his bed unless it was for the loo. And even then she insisted she could just "vanish the mess away".

More than once he found himself sitting with a photo of Sirius in his prime. Before Azkaban had taken his youth. His laughter and his vigour.

He wondered what Remus was doing. How he was handling the loss of his best friend... his brother...

 _"Winky,"_ he said, two weeks after Sirius's death at the Ministry. He looked down at the letter he had written, apologizing to Remus for... well. Everything. For leaving Hogwarts. For turning Sirius away when Kreature had brought him to his home. For refusing to return with him. And many more things he felt needed to be said but he couldn't bring himself to speak them. He waited for Winky to appear before speaking further. _"I have a letter for you to take but... I don't know where he may be right now."_

"If he's is family to Master Hardwin, Winky can finds him."

_"He is... I think of him as family even now. Even after everything that's happened."_

Winky nodded and accepted the letter from him, giving a curtsy. "Winky will take," she said. "But Master needs to rest still. Don't go running in the forest. Master's not strong enough yet."

Harry nodded. He wasn't about to argue with her over that. He still had nightmares of Bellatrix... of the coppery taste of her blood on his tongue. The bloodlust that rose in him each time he thought of her killing Sirius. The satisfying scream as he ripped her arm from her body and sent her flying into the fountain. The crunch of the bones as he chewed up her wand arm only to spit it back out like it – like she – were nothing to the hell-beast he was inside.

When Winky returned hours later, it was to find her master in his chair, curled up as tightly as he could with the furs from the winter bedding chests wrapped around him. She didn't have the heart to wake him. Her news could wait until the morning.

**o0o**

Lord Voldemort was... not pleased.

But behind closed doors Tom Riddle was absolutely giddy.

Bellatrix wasn't even supposed to have been there that night. He'd ordered her to stay behind and wait for his summons. But of course she'd beaten her master's location out of poor Peter when she'd gotten impatient.

She had to re-train the arm that had been grown for her, and that was going to take quite some time. Tom certainly didn't know exactly how long it would be. And he may have mispronounced a few words on purpose, but who was going to know? He'd cast the spells in parsel. Only Potter would even understand what he'd said, and then he'd have to know what the spells were in the first place.

There was one of the biggest threats in his ranks dealt with. For a time at least.

The least important details from the Order and Dumbledore's inner circle were given before the rest of the Death Eaters, and to the fearsome Lord Voldemort.

The pertinent ones however were given over tea in his private rooms. Severus was still in disbelief of what he had witnessed in Dumbledore's pensieve from that night. Alastor Moody certainly wasn't happy to learn that the man he'd seen burn down the Potter place in Godric's Hollow was none other than Harry himself.

When they weren't talking of Potter and the frightening feats he had pulled off that night, they talked of Dumbledore. "He's gone to Nurmengard three times in the last two weeks."

"Truly?"

Severus nodded as he accepted refill on his tea from the house elf Lucius had assigned to their Lord. "Until now, he has limited his trips to once every four months. You could set a calendar by his routine. Now?... It's difficult to know his mind. Whatever plans he had for Potter are now up in smoke and without the prophecy he has nothing to bolster the Longbottom boy's elevated status."

"And what of Potter? There's not been a single mention of him in the Prophet except in relation to the death of his godfather."

Severus sipped his tea after adding two sugars, then wrinkled his nose and added a third. A quick stir and a sip and his tea was almost perfect. But it was acceptable. "Fears that the Potter boy has not only gone rogue but gone dark run rampant in the enemy camp. The Weasley twins however refuse to believe it. After the scandal at the ministry, Lupin's room at headquarters was found to be empty. His personal possessions missing, along with some belonging to Black. There was a full moon two days ago so it's possible he left to grieve alone and chose not to put the others at risk."

It had been many years since Tom had lost someone dear to him, but he could understand. "Do you think he may be... persuaded to change loyalties?"

Severus shook his head. "Not easily. And it's a moot point if we cannot find him."

"His maker will be able to track him down."

Snape hummed as he sipped his tea again. "No," he said at last. "No. I fear Lupin would goad Fenrir into killing him. The man has lost too much already and he hates his maker with more passion than I hated James Potter."

"Perhaps... Perhaps we can tell him the truth about his friends and the night they died."

"I don't think he would believe a word of it from either of us. And he's ready to kill Pettigrew on sight. The only people he would believe are either dead or missing."

"So Potter then," Riddle said, his blue gaze straying to the letter that still sat on his mantle.

Snape nodded. "However..." he said, then set his teacup down and stood. "I may have something to persuade Potter. I will need time and an extra set of hands to assist me in my search. I have built up quite a collection of... collateral over the years."

Riddle waved his hand. "Take all the time you need. Take Peter with you as well. He took the news of Black's death quite hard. I fear if he remains under the same roof as Bellatrix one or both of them will be killed."

"I say let him kill the bitch and finish what Potter started," Severus said calmly.

"Tell me how you really feel, Severus," was the sarcastic reply.

**o0o**

Harry had spent hours in front of the muggle mirror Winky had gotten for him. She had found Remus and gave him the letter, telling him it was from "Master Harry". The man had snarled at her and she got out of there quickly. Winky had not been summoned back for a reply, and no owls attempted to breach his wards. Not even his familiar, Hedwig, had sensed a need for someone to contact her master. And that girl seemed to always know when someone her master considered 'safe' wanted to send him something.

Sirius had been dead for a month. And this was the first time he would be walking into Gringotts since... well... from his perspective it was over a century. From his body's perspective however.... a few years at the least. It's not like he had any accounts there any longer. Not since the Dwarves handled all the transfers for him.

He just didn't trust the shifty goblin bastards.

Which is why he had no problem dressing as if he were going to war. Winky had advised that he dress the same as he had when facing the Dwarves the first time. But with a different cloak. She had insisted he use his invisibility cloak, and swap out his dogwood wand for the Elder he had won. Despite his snapping the fucking thing in many pieces, he had found it on his pillow the next morning after spending the early daylight hours puttering in the garden. He agreed to take it and keep it hidden in his pouch, but he would not use THAT wand. Not after it had been used on him and Tom time and again.

So she compromised. A lightweight cloak with a dragonhide lining but edged in fur – just like his winter cloak.

_"What is up with all the fur, anyway?"_

Winky had sighed dramatically. "You are a powerful wizard. You are... princely, Master Hardwin. Your ancestors were princely, too, until they were potterers. A sign of power. A sign of Master's strength and status."

Harry had to admit he did quite like them, even before he learned how to shift. They were soft, warm, and comfortable. And the feel of it against his skin was soothing in a way so few things were. In the end, he wore the lightweight dragonhide cloak with the fur edging over his basilisk jerkin. Around his neck he wore the Welsh Evans plaid and had the Sword of Gryffindor on his hip... with paperwork he'd gotten in Greece to show that no, the goblins didn't forge the damn thing. They repaired it and added pretty baubles which didn't give them a single right of claim over the ancient blade that was his by, apparently, divine right if the nymphs he'd met in Greece were to be believed.

He scratched at his face as he looked at his reflection. He could use a shave, honestly, but... the stubble looked good on him. It made him look less like his mother Jamie and accented the parts of him that he inherited from Liliam. Now wasn't that something for him to get used to.

"It's almost time to go, Master Hardwin," Winky said from the bedroom. Harry ran a hand through his hair, watching it fall back into it's untameable mass of inky black atop his head. He used to think he got the terror nest from the Potters, but after getting a look a some photos of Lily with short hair it was obvious who he truly inherited that disaster from. At least Jamie's hair could be tamed with hair product. Lily had to keep it long and depend on gravity to do the heavy lifting.

He left the bathroom and stepped into the bedroom. Winky looked him over and nodded approvingly. "Master needs one more thing," she said, pointing to a box on the night stand. Harry levitated it over and opened it.

Inside was a silver ring with a wolf's head. _"Winky where did this come from?"_

"Mifur the Dwarf sent that for you after your letter. Mifur tells Winky that Lord Lilium never made a new ring when Potter House became Evans. Lord Evans needs a Lord's Ring. Winky tells Mifur the Dwarf that Master Hardwin is a princely Lord. A Lord of Wolves."

Harry admired the silver ring, finding the eyes of the wolf were a bright, brilliant green. Like his eyes. Like his father's eyes. _"Thank you, Winky,"_ he said quietly before slipping it onto his dominant hand. _"I will wear it always."_ He was about to close the box when he noticed a piece of parchment inside. He took that out and read it over before wiping at the tears building in the corner of his eye. _"What is this?"_ he asked her.

"House Evans is a New House. New House needs new motto," she said, puffing out her chest with pride. "Is Winky being a good elf?"

Harry pressed the parchment to his lips and smiled before rolling it up and tucking it into his pouch. _"Winky is not just being a good elf. Winky is being the best of all elves. If I am a princely lord of wolves, then Winky is a duchess lady of elves."_

Winky threw herself at his legs, openly crying much in the same way Dobby often had when he received a compliment. He indulged her a moment longer before urging her to let him go. _"I must go now, Winky. When I return I... I do not know what mood I will be in, and I may be gone for a day or more."_

"Winky will be listening for Master's summons," she said. "Winky is the best of all elves!"

Harry left the bedroom with Winky following him to the front door. She opened it for him and gave a low curtsey, rising only when she heard the pop of her master apparating away.

**o0o**

Severus was seated in the back. He had been surprised to get a summons to Gringotts the same day Minerva had. Though once he saw that Albus had gotten one as well... It wasn't hard to figure out why. Enough time had passed that the goblins deemed it time to execute the last will of Sirius Black.

He surveyed the room from where he was seated and was surprised by some of the individuals who had been brought forward for this. Certainly he had expected Draco and his mother to be written out of the fugitive Lord Black's will like Bellatrix had. But there they were, sitting in the front row with Lucius. Now wasn't THAT surprising.

Most of the Order was there, or rather, any of them of note. Both Molly and Arthur were present – each had a Black relation if he remembered correctly. A grandmother or an aunt. Something of the sort. Close enough to be in the line of inheritance, even if it was after the Black Sisters.

When Lupin staggered in he had a few fresh scars on his hands and face and smelling of firewhisky. Moments after the bedraggled werewolf sat Albus had stood and made it known that everyone was present and they really should get started. After all, not everyone got the summer holiday off of work. Silent and observing the scene before him, Severus noted there was one face conspicuously absent from the proceedings. Just to spite everyone involved, he cleared his throat.

"Wouldn't it be prudent to wait for Heir Black before we begin?" he asked, trying to appear even slightly reasonable. It was out of character for him, at least outside his closest friends, but there was never a more appropriate time to be petty than at the will reading of a Marauder. "Or am I mistaken in thinking that Potter wasn't written out of the will of his godfather?"

"Mr. Potter has been missing since the end of last year," Lucius said calmly, ignoring the suddenly confused expression on Lupin's face as he started sniffing the air, then frowning as he looked towards the door. "I doubt whomever has him hostage is going to let him out of his cupboard for something as important as this."

The goblin cleared his throat and attempted once more to start the proceedings. He got as far as the second sentence, declaring that Sirius Black had made the will while sound of body and mind when there was a commotion outside the conference room doors.

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Molly exclaimed impatiently. "Have they no respect!"

The doors were flung open dramatically as goblins attempted to stop the man from entering the closed conference he was intruding upon.

"My invitation," he said, whipping out an envelope and showing it to the goblins trying to waylay him. It was snatched from his hand as he glanced around the room, taking in the faces of those gathered and searching for a place to sit. Ignoring the now gaping goblins who were passing the envelope back and forth, the man strode forward with a sad smile on his stubbly face. He crossed the room with sure, quick strides and once he reached his destination, opened his arms to...

"Moony, it's so good to see you again. I am so sorry about Sirius..." he said, grabbing the man and pulling him up from his seat and into a tight embrace. He had expected to be shoved away, but instead he felt Remus nosing around at his neck, pushing past the fabric and inhaling deeply.

"Oh Cub..." he whispered and when Harry ended the embrace he could see tears in the man's eyes. He sat down in the empty seat beside Remus's and held his hand tightly between both of his own.

"Later. I'll tell you everything later," Harry said to him quietly as the goblins handed the envelope to the one reading the will.

Once the excitement had settled down, the goblin reading the will looked even less enthused than he was when he'd been interrupted. "It seems there is a... last minute change," he said. "Thank you, Mr. Potter for bringing this to the bank's attention."

"What is it, Master Accountant Hammerthorn?" Dumbledore asked, with just the right amount of concern and curiosity in his voice to hide the fact he was very unhappy with this turn of events.

"The previous will is null and void, Headmaster Dumbledore," the goblin called Hammerthorn said with a frown. "However, looking over the most recent will discovered by Mr. Potter with proper certification of authenticity, it appears there is no change in the names or number of beneficiaries. So, we may begin. Unless, of course, we should be expecting any more dramatic entrances or other interruptions?!"

That silenced everyone.

And so, the proceedings began. It was dry and boring. Token bequeaths to shut up the distant relations. Small amounts of galleons for the more greedy of them – of which Molly Weasley apparently was one. Her husband Arthur got a larger sum simply for being a good and loyal friend, and willing to take Harry in when Sirius and Remus couldn't.

To the Malfoys were left a couple of the old Black houses, none of them were Grimmauld Place though.

Nearly everyone got something, until there were four names left.

" **To Severus Snape I leave the Black Family investments in the following Apothecaries and related businesses in the hope that it will make you a less miserable bastard and provide financial security so you can pursue your true interests,"** the goblin read. **"Merlin knows you don't belong in a classroom scaring children for the rest of your life."** Severus didn't know what to say to that, especially when instead of a single sheet of parchment he had been expecting the goblins brought him a scroll's worth of documentation.

He held it in his lap, dumbfounded as the goblin continued on.

" **To Remus John Lupin,** " Hammerthorn read aloud, and Harry swore his hand was going to be crushed. " **I would leave the entirety of my fortune were it not for the damn anti-werewolf laws.** " Hammerthorn's eyes went wide as he read the next part silently, then looked to Remus and Harry before glancing to Dumbledore and then looking back to the scroll again. He cleared his throat, took a few gulps of water, cleared his throat again, and then continued. " **However, the Old Pureblood Laws the ministry won't get rid of allow me to leave everything to my heir, my godson, Harry James Potter, so that he may provide for my...** " The goblin's voice shook a bit, causing him to clear his throat again. " **Provide for my husband so that he may continue to live comfortably after my death. This is, with the understanding, that my godson Harry burn my mother's house to the ground and then piss on her unholy grave**."

Hammerthorn's hands were shaking as he glanced over at Dumbledore and then took another gulp of water as the room erupted into shouts of anger.

Remus tried to pull his hand out of Harry's grasp, but he held it firmly. Remus instead leaned forward, hiding his face with his other hand as he rested his elbow on his knee. His shoulders shook as he tried, and failed, to hide his grief.

The goblin had to shout in order to call everyone back to order again, ultimately resorting in the use of a silencing charm on the entire group of humans.

" **And finally** ," Hammerthorn read, uncertain if he would soon meet a... mysterious and untimely end for what he was about to read aloud to these humans. " **To Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Former as of the time I'm writing this, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot of Magical Britain, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, I leave only these parting words.** **Mischief Managed**."

As soon as the final two words were said, Harry's lips pulled into a fond smile as a few gasps were heard around the room. Unknown to Harry, and many in the room, there was megic woven into those words. Sirius Black wasn't just a pretty face, once. And he wasn't just a reckless ass. In his own way, he was positively brilliant. And he had a way with crafting spells that his friends couldn't quite match. Those two words spoken by, say, a human were meaningless unless it were for a map or a prank book or some other childish pranking aid. Spoken by a centaur it might cause a little concern as the magic in each syllable wouldn't mesh quite right. But coming out in the gruff tone of a goblin? Just the right emphasis on just the right part of a word, well... it might just act like a perfect all purpose Finite Incantatem.

Narcissa turned sharply in her chair to look behind her, eyes searching out the man she knew to be seated in the back, glowering. Only he wasn't glowering... Dark eyes went wide as Severus remembered something he didn't even know he'd forgotten, then looked towards Lupin. Quiet, withdrawn, grieving Lupin. Lupin who was suddenly being held back by Potter and shouting, "I'll kill him!" and "Let me go, Harry! I'll rip him limb from fucking limb!"

**o0o**

Riddle watched the memory finish playing out, looking at the confused faces and then at those who were so very angry so suddenly. Potter seemed to be one of the few not in the know of what had happened. The memory ended abruptly as Albus Dumbledore clapped his hands over his head, his phoenix appearing quickly and flashing away just as fast, taking the old man with it.

When he came out of the pensieve, Narcissa Malfoy was still shaking with rage as she scooped up the memory and returned it to her own mind. "What that man has done... it's... it's..."

"It's barbaric."

"I was having a daughter!" she shouted angrily. "And that... that... MONSTER send those bastards to... too kill me!"

"He will pay for his crimes against us. Against everyone, my Lady."

"To think all these years... All these years I thought... I had blamed you... and Lucius..."

Riddle nodded and turned away from the pensieve with a sigh. "I was barely even human back then. I can understand how easy it was to believe I would be capable of such wickedness."

She left him soon after, unsure how to explain to her husband the dark secret and the old wounds that had been reopened with just those two simple words. Two words that somehow changed everything for so many people. Uncovered years of repressed memories and ripped away the wool from people's eyes. Somehow... some way... Sirius Black of all people had come up with a way to heal years and years of scar tissue and obliviates.

Riddle paced his sitting room as he thought of what his next move should be.

He found his gaze wandering back to his mantle. To the box with the destroyed horcruxes and the letter from Potter.

A letter that had been signed with a different name, but the blood... the blood still tasted the same. And the memory of the Malfoy Heir was unaltered when it had been given to him to view.

Potter had the answers he needed, he was certain of it. And it was clear that though they might not be on the same side, they at least had a common enemy. He went to the mantle and pulled the letter out and read it again. And then again as he skipped over the part about Draco's injuries. An offer of information. A location for him to visit. He had been wary before. Uncertain of Potter's intentions. And yet the more he looked back on what he had seen in the memories of others and of his own brief encounters with the man... the more he came to realize that Potter just wanted to be left alone. He would fight if pushed, but he'd rather just...

What was it the Malfoy boy had said? Sit at his table and read all day.

Riddle took the letter to his desk and sat down, pulling out fresh parchment, a quill, and his best green ink to pen a reply. This was the second letter he had ever written to Potter... the first reply had simply been to shock him. He had assumed Potter wouldn't expect it and if nothing else it amused him to think the boy might have had a panic attack at the thought Lord Voldemort could reach him, even at the safety of Hogwarts. Now though, he felt a more genuine reply was in order. Especially in light of recent events.

**o0o**

Harry sat on the boulder that overlooked the pond where Remus was resting.

"All these years..." Remus said. "All these years I... I didn't..."

"What exactly happened back there, Remus?"

"I... I was made to forget some things that were very important to me. To you. To all of us," Remus said as he threw another rock towards the water before summoning another from the ground. "Sirius... Sirius figured it all out. We all thought Azkaban had broken him but we were wrong. It didn't break him. It broke him free. How he must have... No wonder he drank so much... Merlin if only I'd known... At least his last few years he wouldn't have been so alone... How... How could I have forgotten my own husband? How could I have been so ready to hate him and blame him for-"

"I don't understand," Harry said, reaching out to touch Remus gently on the arm so as not to startle him. "What did Sirius figure out? Why did he drink so much?"

Remus turned amber eyes to Harry, and the young man could see the heartbreak in them. "Sirius was never able to protect his mind. Not after the things his mother did to him growing up," Remus said. "So he kept himself in a state of perpetual chaos. Kept his actual thoughts simple, and hid it behind walls of incomprehensible nonsense. He did this because his mother was very fond of torture, and she would wipe her children's memories of it so her husband wouldn't find out. Regulus never knew the things that woman did to him. Sirius couldn't take it anymore because his mind was different. It was... messed up from the things she did to him. Anyone that looked in his head would see pure insanity. The Black Madness. But he was the sanest person I ever knew. And his memory? Perfect recall. The man could still remember the typo on the book cover of the muggle novel I was reading when we met. And that was... that was a very long time ago."

"So what you're saying is what?... That the headmaster did things to people and erased their memories of it... but it never worked for Sirius? He could still remember... my god, Azkaban must have been worse than we thought for him..."

Remus nodded. "It was, but it was also a blessing in disguise. It gave him time to figure out how to break through to everyone. How to restore what we've lost. And Cub, you have no idea... no idea how much your parents loved you. How much we all loved you."

"I think..." Harry said, putting a hand to the warm spot of his chest where his heart lay. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

"Then let me tell you something else. Something from happier times... something that when Sirius found out had him laughing for months," he said. And so Remus Lupin-Black told Harry about the night a prank went bad and the fake belly Remus had made to trick everyone into thinking Lily was the one who was pregnant. By the time he'd finished the story, arms flailing about in an imitation of Sirius freaking out thinking he'd accidentally made HIMSELF pregnant with James's baby, he and Harry were both laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.

When they made the trek back to Harry's cottage, the young man could finally think about his godfather without wanting to scream at the sky over the injustice of it all. Instead thoughts of his godfather conjured up laughter and pranks and silly stories about the time Padfoot got jealous and kept trying to catch Moony and Prongs together only to see that Remus's excuses of tutoring James in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures really was JUST extra study and tutoring.

Remus spent the night the same way he had spent every night since the reading of Sirius's will – sleeping on Harry's sofa. Tomorrow, they would leave for Greenland to sign over everything Harry had gotten from Sirius to Remus.

After all, the laws of Magical Britain didn't apply to the world outside it. And the Dwarves had no quarrel with werewolves.

**o0o**

Hedwig had set out the morning of July 30th, and did not return until the evening of the 31st with a shrunken green and silver box.

After enlarging it then checking it over, Harry wedged his butter knife under the edge of the lid and used that to open it up without touching it. Winky peered inside after giving Hedwig a slice of cooked chicken for a treat. "Gifts, Master Hardwin."

_"From who?"_

She examined the outside of the box, then with her magic lifted out a piece of parchment and a small bundle of dark blue and red cloth. The name on the parchment was one that had Harry reaching out and snatching it. _"Snape?"_

Winky unwrapped the bundle and laid it on the table away from her master's supper. It was a bound stack of letters. Harry read through the one in his hand, greedy green eyes soaking up every word before he moved to abandon his supper and reach for the stack. Winky peered inside the box again to find more carefully wrapped items.

"Master-"

 _"Not now, Winky,"_ he said, recognizing the handwriting on the topmost letter as Lily's from what few examples he had of it. He took the bundle away from the table and went to his favourite chair. Winky shook her head with a sigh and picked up the box to carry over to him. Harry read the first letter. Then reached for another. He hadn't noticed when Winky had put tea out for him.

Letter after letter he read through the night. Sometimes he'd read the same one more than once. Twice. More even. _"They..."_ he said at one point, not even looking at Winky as he tried to keep his hands from shaking _. "They wanted... they wanted to escape the war..."_ His voice was quiet. _"I knew... Of course I knew because Tom told me..."_ He trailed off, shaking his head and trying to make some sense of order of his thoughts. _"My mum and dad were planning to run away to the muggle world that night. Peter didn't betray them he was trying to help them! Tom never meant to...."_

"Master should see what else is in his gift box," Winky said, pushing the box towards her master. "Winky will takes these and puts them in Master Hardwin's special chest with the inky stone."

 _"Yes.... yes of course,"_ he said, folding the letters back and trying to make them into a nice, neat stack again. Well, as nice and neat as his shaking hands could manage. He let her take them, but she had to tug rather hard before slapping his hands away to get them from him. Only after she had gone did he turn his eyes to the box again, and pulling it closer reached in to see what other secrets it contained.

Harry lifted out a binder. It didn't seem all that special until he got a good look at the spine. In careful, evenly spaced and block print the words **POTIONS & CHARMS - YEAR ONE** were written along it. He touched it lightly with his fingers before opening the cover. He recognized Lily's handwriting immediately. Turning the pages, skimming them briefly, he realized there were two sets of writing. Two different styles. And there was a relief he felt as an unease he hadn't been aware of began to loosen in him. Snape's handwriting mixed in with Lily's. Potions and charms and combinations thereof that they had worked on together over the years. Footnotes citing where an idea had come from – or stating that the originator of a theory had been wrong.

He set it aside as he looked through the box some more and found a few bottles with glowing memories inside. He had no pensieve of his own, but knew where to get one. These were set aside and, in the bottom of the box, was a letter addressed to himself. The squiggles of parsel the only indication of whom it was from.

He tore the envelope open, nearly forgetting the letter as a cracked black stone fell out into his lap. It bounced off his thigh and clattered to the floor at his feet. Harry stared at it with a mixture of fascination and horror. He consulted the letter for answers and found only that Lord Voldemort wished to finally accept the invitation Harry had sent him months ago with the return of Draco Malfoy. The stone, described as a relic of his magical bloodline, was given as a token of good faith in return for what Harry had already given back to him.

Harry was to expect his arrival to the location in his invitation three days from the date he opened the letter. The letter was placed carefully back in the box with everything else before Harry stood and picked up the stone. He held it up to the light and in doing so was able to see the hauntingly familiar symbol of the Mugwump's regime embedded into the gem. And yet the crack in the stone was the most fascinating part of all. The crack was right down the centre, causing the line down the middle of the circle and triangle to appear jagged... light a lightning bolt.

**o0o**

Harry took two days to digest the information he had learned from the box he had received on his birthday before having Winky make copies of the letters between his parents and Severus Snape so that Remus may see with his own eyes evidence of what was meant to take place that fateful Halloween night. The night that changed all their lives forever.

On the third day, Harry stood behind his wards and dressed far more informally than Winky had wished him to be. He was, in her own words, a Princely Wizard Lord and when receiving guests he should look the part. Harry, on the other hand, refused to do so and had opted for a muggle t-shirt and jeans. He kept the wolf ring, and wore a basilisk skin holster on his wrist for his wand. Hanging off his hip was a shiny new dagger Winky had picked out for him from his vaults. He felt naked without one most days. And hanging loosely from his neck was the dark blue and red swath of plaid.

Winky wasn't too pleased that he didn't shave and look presentable, but Harry had insisted he wasn't going to pretty himself up just for a quick visit from the Dark Lord. Really, Harry knew he still looked far too young this time around without at least a little stubble. Last time his scars and the war had aged him quickly. This time his life wasn't so hard. And he had aged himself up rather rapidly.

Harry wasn't surprised when the Dark Lord arrived with a couple of his friends. The letter said nothing of them, but he had naturally assumed the man wouldn't want to be led into a trap.

When it appeared no others were going to arrive, Harry smiled warmly. "Professor Snape. Lord Malfoy." He nodded to each in turn before looking at Lord Voldemort and hissing. _"Riddle."_

 _"Potter,"_ was the hissed reply. Harry stepped out from the wards and offered his hands to Snape and Malfoy each. "My wards," he said in English. "Are very destructive and violent. They will only allow parseltongues who share my blood to cross them without incident. I must bring you through myself the first time. However, my elf will be able to help you come and go as needed after that."

Snape looked at Harry's hand a moment while Lucius looked as if he'd just been asked to be nice to a muggle. "Please, gentlemen," he said. "I assure you, nothing untoward will happen to you here as long as you mean to keep the peace. If not... well... It won't be very pretty what might happen to you. I've beefed up my wards since Draco was here."

He stood there, hands out and waiting before Snape gave a scowl and an annoyed sigh, making it clear he didn't want to be touched and only doing so out of absolute necessity. When Harry's fingers wrapped around Snape's wrist, he looked to Lucius. "Lord Malfoy?"

Voldemort was about to order his minion and friend to do as Potter had requested, but Lucius rolled his eyes and held out his hand. Harry took it as well, and began walking backwards, back through his wards slowly. He watched as they shivered when they stepped through and any charms meant for deception of any sort were stripped away.

Harry was amused that Malfoy actually had some dull grey mixed in with his platinum blond. Snape on the other hand looked a bit more handsome than he'd expected. "Professor, why do you hide behind a glamour that makes you look like a hideous berk?"

"Potter-"

"You're actually very fetching, sir. You do yourself a disservice." He released their wrists and turned his attention to Tom. "Well? Care to join us? Or would you like me to hold your hand as well?"

"Lord Voldemort does not-"

Harry's laughter was almost a bark. It reminded Snape very much of Sirius Black... so much it was quite unsettling.

_"Riddle, just step through," Harry hissed. "It won't harm you. These were altered and designed with you, specifically, in mind."_

When Lord Voldemort finally stepped through the wards, Harry was quite pleased when the disguise was stripped away. Rather than a bone white, no-nosed and reptile eyed monstrosity a fair skinned wizard with piercing blue eyes and slightly tousled black hair stared at him. He looked a little younger than Harry had expected. Closer to 30 than 40. The billowing black robes had been reverted to a simple shirt, trousers, and waistcoat. He looked rather old fashioned, really. Harry had been used to seeing this man in... well... whatever they could find. Muggle jeans or dragonhide it didn't matter much to him. There were far less scars than he was used to.

Harry almost smiled fondly, but stopped himself and gave a tight nod. "Welcome, gentlemen," he said, stepping away from them. "To the ancestral home of the Potters. If you will follow me, we can discuss business over brunch. My elf Winky makes these lovely little finger sandwiches. The house itself is rather small so I thought we'd take brunch in the garden."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some things referenced in this chapter during Sirius's will reading that can be learned about in more detail in the one-shot background worldbuilding fic [_The Fall of the House of Potter_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123136), which is the story of James Potter's life all the way up until the night he died, and the immediate aftermath of Halloween 1981.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to kutsua. You have no idea how hard I laughed when I noticed you called me "TP author" and "TP dude" in different bookmarks of my stuff. Honestly, it gave me a giggle and I LOVED it! So this updates for you, mate. Hope you continue to enjoy reading my stuff.
> 
> "Normal speech."  
>  _"Parseltongue."_

Riddle was quite surprised by the scene before him. A decorative tent had been erected in what appeared to be a rather large and eclectic garden. An intricate metal table had been put out, with four matching chairs that had been adorned with cushions that matched the terry cloth dress of the house elf and the plaid cloth Potter had taken to wearing at his neck. The elf was just pulling back the mesh walls of the tent as they had come up the well trod path towards the quaint looking stone house.

"It's rather... small."

"Of course it is, Lord Malfoy," Harry had said good naturedly. "It dates back to the 12th century and belonged to the village crackpot. The property is quite extensive though. Four times the size of Malfoy Manor's grounds at least. When the village to the south was abandoned the land was added to the Potter holdings. I haven't fully explored in that direction yet as I'm still working my way through the Stinchcombe Woods to the north."

He stopped at the tent and waved towards the table with refreshments already prepared. "Feel free to test anything you like for hexes, spells, charms, potions and the like. I'd be disappointed if you didn't," he said as the three men eyed the table suspiciously.

Riddle didn't touch a single thing other than the tea, which he tested himself, to ensure it was safe. The four men sat in uncomfortable silence after the required pleasantries that Pureblood Etiquette dictated. "Well," Harry started after a while and rubbed his hands together. "Professor Snape, is it safe to assume you've restocked your supply of Veritaserum since Professor Umbrage depleted it this last term?"

Severus scowled, narrowing his dark eyes at Potter a moment.

"Are you offering to take the strongest truth serum invented, Potter, in the presence of two men who have sworn to kill you and another that hates your very existence?"

Harry looked to Lucius and gave him a half shrug in response. "I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by telling the truth. Unfortunately, the truths I have to tell, I know, will sound impossible and downright unbelievable. Were this Hogwarts, I have no doubt that Professor Snape would accuse me of making up stories for attention before taking as many points as he could get away with, assigning me as many detentions as he can before the headmaster reverses them, and then still find more ways to punish me simply for wasting the very air he breathes with such an impossible tale. So," he said, pushing his plate forward and folding his hands on the cleared space before him. "I'm ready whenever you are, Professor."

Harry sat still, opened his mouth, and stuck out his tongue, waiting for the three drops from the bottle he knew Snape always kept on his person.

After silent debate between the three men, Snape finally stood and reached into his robes. Harry patiently sat, still calmly waiting with his tongue sticking out. When three drops were administered and Harry's tongue back in his mouth, the three men watched the green eyes glaze over as if seeing past them at nothing at all.

"I will now ask three questions to ascertain the potion is working as designed," Snape said. "What is your name?"

"Hardwin Romulus Evans."

Snape frowned. "There must be some mistake..." he said, but went on to the next question. "What is your date of birth?"

"The 31st of July, 1980."

Snape glanced at the other two men before formulating another question. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Fifteen years of regret and self loathing," Harry replied flatly.

The answer caught Snape off balance and made him take a step back from Potter.

Lucius frowned. "Clearly this batch isn't quite-"

"No," Snape forced out. "No, it's working as intended. Ask your damn questions."

Riddle watched as Snape stormed away from the tent a ways and frowned after his friend. Harry blinked, staring blankly into the distance at the opposite end of the table.

They started out simply. Asking him questions about his time at Hogwarts. Things they knew of, but perhaps not all of the details. By the time Severus had gotten himself back under control, the questions had become more complex. More specific.

Until finally Snape asked, "Do you know the prophecy made about the Dark Lord and yourself?"

"Possibly," Harry said, slightly uncertain.

"Will you explain?"

"Yes."

"You must be more specific, I think, about this one," Lucius said. "We request that you now explain your answer."

Snape raised a brow at his old friend. "That's a statement, he won't-"

"I was told the contents of the prophecy by the Headmaster of Hogwarts the night of my godfather's death but I was not actually told the contents of the prophecy."

"When you want more detailed answers, phrase it as a request. It's the one thing they never think to do in a ministry trial," Lucius said with a smirk. "How do you think I was able to get off every charge, every time, even with the potion?"

"I assumed you bribed everyone," Harry said in the same, flat tone.

Riddle couldn't help but laugh at Lucius's affronted look before he glanced back to Harry. "Why do you believe you were told the prophecy but also not told the prophecy?"

"I was captured and placed into a magical sleep following the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. While my body was asleep, my mind was contained inside a dream-like prison devised by the headmaster to prevent my escape. The prophecy I have been told while in this state may not be the real prophecy, or may be only part of the prophecy."

Two of the men at the table were there that night at the Ministry. The third saw the memories of the night from multiple parties on both sides of the encounter.

All three knew that this was not the outcome of that night. And yet Potter – or Evans as he had claimed – had just stated while under the influence of Veritaserum that this is how the night had gone. This is what had happened to him the night his godfather died.

Severus sat back and thought about the situation for a long moment before, at last, coming to a decision. "Potter, we request," he started, looking from Lucius to Riddle and back to Harry again. "We request that you tell us, starting from the night of Sirius Black's death, exactly the chain of events that have led you to this very day."

"We're going to be here for a long time, I suspect," Riddle said as Harry opened his mouth to begin speaking.

And speak he did.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Severus had to re-dose Potter several times while his elf provided him with plenty to drink as he continued telling his story.

He had finally reached the point where he woke in a coffin in a cave when Winky had lit the torches in the garden for the three men when Riddle had insisted Severus give the poor man the antidote.

Once his head was clear again, Harry sagged in his chair and accepted the hot tea from Winky with a hiss of thanks.

"Master is very tired now," the elf said imperiously. "We's no room for more than one guest tonight!"

Harry smiled gratefully at his elf as he sipped his tea. He hissed to Winky, but Riddle understood what he was saying well enough. "Severus," he said. "Are you expected back at the castle any time soon?"

"Not particularly," he said. "Is there anything..."

"Why don't you stay with Mr. Evans tonight," he said. "Such prolonged use of even the best made Veritaserum could have lingering effects."

Snape glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye. "I suppose... in the interest of ensuring the idiot boy does not develop undesired effects I could... spend a few hours observing him."

"Good."

Harry stood, nodding to Lucius and rubbing at his throat. The man nodded politely back before allowing the house elf to take him by the wrist. "Until next time, Evans," he said before he was taken away back to his home.

"Get some sleep," Riddle hissed at the young man. “I will return the day after tomorrow and we will continue. There is... much to think about with the revelations you have given us thus far."

And with little fanfare, the Dark Lord was gone.

Winky was given a hissed command, and the left over food from the third meal taken at the table was packed away. The plates and cups and silverware levitated across the garden towards the house before the torches were put out and Harry nodded towards the stone cottage.

**o0o**

Snape was seated in one of the deceptively comfortable chairs by the hearth. There was no fire going and light was provided by odd little recesses in the walls and the ceiling where orbs of soft light glowed. They reminded him of muggle light bulbs – but he could feel the magic pulsing gently outward from them. He was impressed when he'd first been led into the house by it's simplicity. The room where the house elf was instructed to make up the sofa as a bed was floor to ceiling shelves along each wall, save for a break here and there for a tapestry or the rare window. The room was larger than he had expected and served two functions. It was clear where one area began and the other ended. The dining table had been strewn with books, ink pots, and parchment where the young man had presumably been doing self study and research.

The sitting area looked quite cosy with two chairs and a sofa, all three situated facing the hearth where the mantle was decorated with various keepsakes.

Mixed in among the tomes and parchments on Harry's shelves were photos. He didn't dare look at many of them after Harry had shown him one of his parents in a muggle hospital. It had been many years since he had been made to forget so much about that time of his life. To suddenly have those memories returned to him, by Sirius Black and from beyond the grave, it was just as much a shock for him as what his former student had told them this day.

But now that his host had retired to his bed for the night, Severus found himself gazing towards the shelves. Each photograph, both moving and static, a piece of the chapter ripped clean out of the story of their lives.

**o0o**

Harry had forgotten that someone had stayed the night on his sofa when he had woken the next morning. He sleepily went about his usual morning routine – which primarily consisted of going to the loo, splashing water on his face, pulling on a pair of pants, and shuffling sleepily in the vague direction of the dining table where Winky always had his morning tea waiting while she made his breakfast.

And his mail.

And sometimes the newspaper.

This morning he did all of those things and then dropped down into his usual chair at his table, stared down at his cup of tea, and hissed. Instantly the room was thrown into darkness save for what little light came through the few small windows.

"I was using that light, Potter."

Harry hissed back at the man.

"In English, please."

"Pissss off Ssssnape," Harry half-said, half-hissed as he took a sip of his tea and nearly spat it out. _"Winky!"_

The elf appeared at his side instantly with a spatula in one hand and a measuring cup full of batter in the other. "Master calls for his Winky?"

_"What the bloody hell is wrong with my tea?!"_

"Tea is perfect as Master likes it! Is nothing wrong with Winky's tea!"

"Consuming six times the recommended dosage of Veritaserum in a single day can result in an altered sensation of taste. It will correct itself in a few days," Snape drawled, casting a lumos so he could continue to read the book he had borrowed from Potter's shelves. Judging by Harry's frown back at him, he had guessed correctly based on the house elf's response.

Harry hissed at him again before asking Winky for more sugar.

"A sprinkle of sea salt will help decrease the bitterness of the sugar when combined with the after-effects of Veritaserum," Snape said, turning the page.

An hour later, Harry was wide awake, annoyed, and begrudgingly adding a bit of salt to his tea while glaring at the man who'd stayed behind to keep an eye on him.

**o0o**

Harry was grateful the man left just after lunch, leaving behind a potion for his Veritaserum headache and another to help soothe his throat once Winky had explained that her master preferred Parseltongue because it was easier for him to speak and understand, but she would not explain why.

She knew why, sort of, because he'd told her some about his life before. About the other time he lived after he woke screaming and hissing from a nightmare.

"Master forgets, sometimes, his guests don't be understanding his words," she'd said instead. "Has to stop and think first, then speak so theys know." And then she'd gone about her chores.

**o0o**

Gellert Grindlewald was an old, old man.

He used to look forward to his former love's occasional visits.

Amused himself by taunting him. Goading him into an argument.

Until the three to four times a year visits became more frequent.

He knew, for instance, because Albus had gloated to him early on during his imprisonment, that he knew where the other two Hallows were. He couldn't reach them, of course. He couldn't collect them yet. One of them was held by a former student. The other by a prominent family in Britain.

Sometime later he hadn't been gloating so hard. One of them was still held by that former student, and the other was still held by that same family. But apparently the man who had the cloak was too stubborn for his own good. Albus would have to... persuade him to let him see the cloak for a time.

Gellert had told him it was no use. He'd never collect them all.

Over the years, Gellert had time to think.

Oh, he hadn't repented for the things he'd done. He still felt he was entirely in the right and that his methods were the better. Wizards were meant to rule. Why else would they have been given so much power? They had the might, and the right, to control the world around them. Did he enjoy killing? No. He didn't. Would he do it if he had to? If it was the best method to achieve his goals? Most certainly. It wasn't personal. It never was. It was a simple matter of survival of the fittest and the muggles were advancing quickly. What they had lacked in magic they made up for in science and cleverness. And soon, Gellert knew, they wouldn't hope to overpower the muggles that outnumbered them hundreds to one.

So... when the muggles went to war across continents, he took advantage of the situation. It was a perfect opportunity to recruit and spread his ideology. It would have worked, too.

Had it not for Albus.

Albus who'd killed his sister in cold blood and placed the blame on him. Albus who'd goaded his brother into a duel. Tampered with minds as if they were his own personal playthings.

Gellert was a dark wizard, he made no excuses or apologies for that.

But even he had his limits. He was no black sorcerer. He wouldn't stoop so low as to dabble in such wicked, vile ways. That was why he went after the wand. That was why he tried to gather the Hallows first. Because he knew what kind of twisted madman Albus truly was beneath the kindly and genial mask he wore for the public. He had fallen in love with a man who couldn't feel. Couldn't love. But craved many of the same things he did. And in the end... he was thrown aside when his usefulness was done. Just like all the others. The only reason his life was spared had been because he was a keeper of secrets. So many dark, evil things that needed to be protected from the public. Protected from those who worked against the mighty Albus Dumbledore. Secrets hidden inside him against his will for the Greater Good.

And now.... Now he listened to his old flame on the other side of his prison bars. His anger. His rage. His impotent fury.

"Outsmarted!" Gellert finally croaked when Albus had thrown himself petulantly into a chair kept just out of reach of the bars. Kept just for visits like this to the prison's only prisoner. "Outmanoeuvred by a dead werewolf fucker and a child!"

He cackled as Albus glared at him from outside the cell. Gellert slapped his knee and shook his head. "Oh, Albus.... I told you. I warned you. Years ago what did I say? If you play god and make your monsters you've no right to be upset when they turn around and bite you!" His shoulders shook as he settled back on the stone wall where his thin cot was pushed against it. He was still laughing when Albus stood and left, his phoenix trailing along behind him.

"Even I wasn't so arrogant as to fuck with both the Blacks and the Potters!" Gellert shouted as his jailer walked away down the corridor. "Why not make a horcrux or five!" he taunted, still laughing long after Albus had gone from his sight.

**o0o**

Albus was gone from the castle more and more these days. Which meant more of the running of the school had fallen to Minerva than was usual. This in and of itself wasn't a problem. For years she'd performed her duties to the school admirably as professor, head of house, and deputy headmistress. Even while under the oppressive thumb of Dolores Jane Umbrage for a whole year.

But with Albus running off to who knew where in addition to his various and sundry duties to the many offices he held alongside that of being Headmaster, she was expected to do his job as well.

Well, she wasn't having it.

Three... THREE jobs she had already, alongside her place in the Order... which was something she had found herself questioning and reconsidering. STRONGLY reconsidering after the shameful display at Sirius Black's will reading. She was glad, however, to see that Harry was safe and if his appearance was anything to judge by, doing quite well for himself. To afford the kind of potions it looked like he'd gotten his hands on, he must be.

And therein was another problem.

Oh she'd listened to Albus angrily rant about Harry's disappearance. About someone kidnapping him. About him running away. And she had caught the brunt of his anger when it was obvious he'd done so right out from under her nose, not two feet from where she'd been standing that night, too! And she'd had to sit and listen to Alastor go on and on about Harry turning dark and betraying the Order. Blaming him for burning his parents home down. HA! Even if it was him, she couldn't really blame him for it. Condone it? Certainly not! But blame... no. She'd seen the wreckage days after the incident in 81.

She knew, vaguely, what he saw and heard when dementors were near. It was why she had looked the other way when Remus had taken the boy under his paw so to speak and taught him the patronus charm to protect himself.

If that night, when he was so small and defenseless and staring Death itself in the face was the boy's worst memory then she certainly understood the motivation to rid himself of the place where it happened. The place where that dreadful hyphenated title and greatly exaggerated legend around him was born. A bit drastic when perhaps a couple of bricks through a window would have been just as cathartic in her opinion... But no. She couldn't blame him for needing to do something. To take control of something in his life when others, herself included, were guilty of denying him something as simple as a choice between.... well... anything. What to have for breakfast. Who to be friends with. Where to spend his summers.

Minerva tapped her nail against her oak desk in thought as she trailed her eyes around her office. Little knick-knacks here and there from her life. The porcelain cat her mother gave her when she'd achieved her animagus form. The pearl comb from her aunt when she'd reached her majority. A green clay vase, chipped and cracked and glued back together from little Lily Evans as a thank you for being so understanding of her... situation.

The old woman smiled.

There were a lot of special cases sorted into her house that year. Between a werewolf, a lunatic, the poor Potter child, Dorcas bloody Meadows and that generational curse that caused the girl to say any and all thoughts that popped into that head of hers... sweet little Lily Evans fit right in with the rest of the mad pride she'd had in her lion's tower those seven long years.

And then, her smile waned as she was brought back to thoughts of Lily's son Harry.

Her finger stopped tapping as her eyes wandered back to that green vase made with such care and love by a muggleborn child so young and eager to learn. So happy to have a place to finally fit in and friends who didn't think her strange or odd.

It was then an old anger sparked to life. Fanned by the shame she still felt for not having been more firm 15 years ago. For not having gone back to that wretched house herself and taken the sweet child from where he was abandoned on a ruddy muggle doorstep. Oh Minerva was angry – at herself – for all of the things she should have done but never dared for fear of upsetting Albus. Of doubting him. It was a spark of anger she hadn't felt in years, and in that moment the old woman silently gave a prayer in thanks to the ghost of Sirius Black, where ever he may be.

For he had given her back something she'd never known she'd lost.

Minerva pushed her chair back and stood, smoothing out her robes before striding to the door. Severus should be back from his errands by now, certainly. And if she wished to have a truly private discussion, then she had best get a move on before Albus returned and started poking his bushy eyebrows where they weren't wanted. Not unless he wanted to find out this furious kitty still had her claws.

**o0o**

Books were strewn about the bed, piled up on the night stand, scattered across a desk, and even haphazardly stacked beside the bed in which Hermione Granger sat, propped up and with a lap desk across her lap.

Her chest was sore, still, after the night at the Ministry. A night that she still mentally kicked herself over time and time again.

The night that made her parents refuse to allow her to return to Hogwarts.

Hence all the books and parchment.

She was still waiting for her OWL results, but it didn't look promising given the kind of year she'd had.

First her best friend seems completely different – then again he did just watch someone die the term before and then was isolated at his horrid relatives for the summer. They weren't even allowed to write to him for fear of their letters getting intercepted! He'd spent two days, max, with his godfather and his friends before being shipped off to school... So when Hermione really thought about it... withdrawing from everyone and everything certainly made a bit of sense. He probably thought no one really cared.

Then there was that defense club that got way out of hand. She'd only wanted to form a study group since it was clear they weren't going to learn anything from that horrible toad of a woman. And then Ron and Ginny had to go and run their mouths about to everyone else.

And poor Neville... After Harry had run away from school Umbrage and Snape really started in on him something awful. And Ron, the pig, just moved right on to a new best friend before Harry's bed was even cold! Admittedly, she'd started spending more time with him, too, but it was mostly because she could handle Ron easier and again, the poor boy was already dealing with Umbrage and Snape. He didn't need Ron constantly trying to goad him as well.

And now the boy wouldn't even have Hermione as a buffer anymore now that her parents had made sure of that.

On the plus side though... provided she got good scores on her OWLs, she could apply for a special permit to let her use her wand at home so long as it was for her education and emergencies only.

Maybe she could convince her parents to send her to France... after all, she had gotten on quite well with the students from Beauxbatons. And the school didn't have nearly as many dangerous accidents – if any actually – as Hogwarts had in the last five years. And without all the constant hazards she might actually learn something more than whatever was needed to survive whatever crazed plot was going on that year.

**o0o**

Harry couldn't sleep.

So he did what he normally did when he couldn't sleep these days. He went for a run.

The forest creatures had gotten used to the large, green eyed beast that loped around chasing squirrels and rabbits and playfully swatting at birds. They weren't at first of course. Because let's face it when a big, hulking predator just appears one day, runs around in what your entire life you'd believed was a nice, quiet little bit of forest, and then keeps coming back. Of course if you're a small prey animal you're going to freak the fuck out. In as much as small prey animals could freak the fuck out that is.

But over time, the lack of the predator attacking. And in fact letting them get closer to investigate him as he slept in a patch of sunlight, or sat by a stream, head on his paws and just enjoying the day, they'd gotten quite use to the strange beast.

The strange beast that had no problem taking a chunk out of other large predators that might wander into the forest uninvited.

Except that one night when there were two of them. Their their large and beastly friend spent most of the time running around with a wilder beast, swatting at it from time to time to keep it from going after his little forest friends.

So when Harry, as Romulus, bounded into the trees and started down his usual path to explore the forest and visit with his little furry friends, not a single little animal was surprised. In fact, many of them quite liked it when he was around because it meant they'd be safer. And if they were really lucky, he might dig up a hole and find lots of nice and tasty worms and bugs for them. Or he might play in the bushes and knock some berries to the ground. Or stop to scratch his side on a tree and shake some nuts down – though in the summer there were hardly any to drop yet.

**o0o**

Tom Riddle was.... annoyed.

Now, he wasn't one to turn away the willing when the mood struck him.

But he had two very firm rules that, apparently, had been thrown to the wayside when he'd started to lose his grasp on reality. And unfortunately now that the woman currently pleasuring herself in his bed had seen what he truly looked like now, she was quite unwilling to remove herself.

"For the last time, Bellatrix," he repeated for what he hoped would be the final time tonight. "I'm not going to have sex with you."

"But my Lord-"

"You're a married woman, Bellatrix! I don't take married women into my bed!" That, was his first rule.

"You have before!"

Technically she was correct. When he was a batshit insane, immortality obsessed, power hungry, child murdering, soulless psychopath. To remember that he'd done so, gleefully and right in front of her husband no less sickened him.

"Come here, my Lord. Let me serve you-"

"ENOUGH BELLATRIX!" he shouted in frustration, and it caused the woman to purr. Actually fucking purr at him! "Get out! The next time I see you in these rooms, I'll finish what Potter bloody well should have finished!"

Her eyes lit up at the thought and she crawled to the end of the bed. Her new arm wrapping around the bedpost as she hung from it, naked and eager and actually SMILING at him! The nerve of the woman! "You promise, my Lord?"

Riddle ran a hand through his hair in frustration, muttering to himself. _"Sweet Circe what I wouldn't give for a time turner so I could punch myself before I dipped my quill in her crazy inkwell."_

And that, was his second rule.

Never, under any circumstances, did he ever holster his wand in a pocket of crazy.

"I'm not dealing with you like this," he said finally, turning to leave the room. "I'm getting your husband."

**o0o**

She was... confused.

Had she not done everything that was asked of her?

Had she not done exactly what she was told?

And yet her brothers were angry with her.

Beyond angry, they were furious with her.

She thought they'd be happy for her. After all, the headmaster had told her that if she did exactly as she was told, exactly as he said, then when Harry came back he'd make sure Harry would never leave them ever again.

She did it for the family. And... if that insufferable prat Malfoy got taken down a few pegs, all the better.

So she was caught trying to imperius the Lovegood girl last week. So what. It was for the Greater Good! It's not her fault the stupid bint was too crazy to follow directions like she was supposed to.

Ginny Weasley continued to sit on the cot and frown at the healers. She hated them. Almost as much as she hated Fred and George. Didn't they understand? They needed her to do this. To do exactly as the headmaster told her to do. She had important things to do before Harry came back to them! She had to make sure everyone that might want to hurt him were punished! That way it would be safe for him at Hogwarts again! Didn't they care?!

Ron understood. Why couldn't they?

"I want Ron!" she shouted when she just couldn't take their prattling on anymore. "I want my brother Ron! And I want him right now!" she reached for the healer's wand, and seconds later... blackness. Nothingness.

Unknown to Ginny, after she'd been spelled asleep – for her own safety as well as the safety of the healers – her father was shown the healers' reports later that evening when he came to visit her after work. And then he was shown the pensieve memories so he could see for himself what her outbursts were like after her elder brothers dragged her to St. Mungoes against her will the week before.

It was a good thing he hadn't listened to his wife and used his share of the inheritance from Sirius to take a trip to Romania and visit Charlie after all.

They'd be lucky to be able to afford ONE tuition to Hogwarts after paying for their daughter's care, let alone two.


End file.
